Make up or Break up
by Spandauballet91
Summary: Paul & Shawn have been married for five years. Since Shawn's retirement things have been changing in their lives and not always for the better. After several months on tour and an argument over the phone, Paul decides to return home to confront his husband and put all fears to rest.
1. Chapter 1

The conversation had taken its toll on Paul. Begrudgingly, he stared at his phones home screen and shook his head in exasperation. Why did Shawn have to be so difficult? The home screen slowly faded out until the screen shut off completely. Paul sucked at his teeth and slipped the device into his jeans pocket. Why did Shawn _always _have to be so difficult? Why did he have to be so cruel as well?

Paul placed his hands on either side of the sink and looked directly at himself in the mirror. How did it escalate so quickly? Now he would have to go back into the locker room and be greeted by the awkward glances and questions. He huffed, snapped on the tap and rubbed his hands under the cold water. He caught what he could and dabbed it over his face. They all knew whenever he made a mad dash to the toilets with the phone attached to his ear meant one thing – they were rowing. A disagreement could be easily settled with a firm word in the corridor or quietly in the corner. A row would need privacy. It needed an empty arena bathroom.

The tap turned itself off. The room was quiet except for the odd drip of toilet water within the systems behind him and his own breath. Was this married life? No, surely not. The honeymoon period would not have lasted four years and then just died a death on the fifth. It was illogical. Had Paul changed? Or was Shawn being his usual Pre-Madonna self? At this moment in time Paul was willing to bet on the latter.

The heavy wooden door to Paul's left creaked open and footsteps accompanied his breathing and the dripping systems. Paul cracked half a smile. Only a few people would have had the testicles to walk in on Triple H during a telephone row.

"I'm glad you're done," a heavily monotone voice grumbled. "I don't think I could have stood listening to you wallowing while I'm trying to take a dump."

Paul's eyes met those of the Undertaker's through the reflection of the mirror.

"I take it you didn't make up before the conversation ended?" Mark, the Undertaker's real name, continued. Paul shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk. The other man nodded his head slowly and turned away from the mirror and into one of the cubicles before he pulled it shut and bolted it.

"He didn't give me a chance," Paul finally said. "He hung up on me."

"You sound surprised?" The monotone voice replied behind the door.

"You don't know him the way _I _know him, Mark."

"I knew him before you walked on the scene," was the casual reply. "He's always overreacted. Just because he's off the pills doesn't mean he no longer overreacts."

Paul pushed himself up off the sink. Mark was right but that did not give him the right to be so honest. He turned himself around and lent against the sink so he faced the Undertaker's cubicle.

"He's always been sensitive," Paul said.

"Insecure" Mark replied shortly. Paul bit his bottom lip and felt his nose twitch. He could have gone into a tirade but he just could not bring himself to do it. It required effort, something Paul did not have right now, and finally it would require Paul having to deal with backstage tensions every night between Mark and himself. He said nothing.

"Suppose he's just lonely?" Mark said.

Paul's head perked up. Lonely? He crossed his arms over his chest and waited expectedly for Mark to continue. The blue paint on the toilet cubicle was peeling and the brown MDF underneath was making itself visible. Paul frowned.

"Lonely? I call him every day. I call him more than twice a day! Sometimes I call him three times depending on how busy things are here. It's not like I don't miss him!" Paul growled, he grew more defensive with each word he said. "I do miss him! I would love to have dinner with him, go to bed with him and do all the normal husband-esque things with him but it's hard when we're constantly on tour!

But he doesn't make it easy. He says he understands but ever since he retired he _really_ doesn't understand. He doesn't understand that I do more than just wrestle here now."

Paul pushed himself up and away from the sink and laid sharp, hard kick into the cubicle next to Mark's. The cheap, wooden door snapped open and whacked the wooden frame of the cubicle which made the entire block of toilets shake.

The toilet flushed and Mark exited his cubicle whilst he rearranged his tights around his waist.

"Missing him doesn't make him less lonely in the same way him missing you doesn't make you any less lonely," The large man pushed past Paul, tapped the taps on and ran his hands under the hot water. "Buy him a puppy."

Paul's eyebrow raised, "He's my husband not my daughter. I don't think a furry creature in a ribboned box is going to work."

"Then why don't you get off your high horse and book some time off work like the rest of us working slobs do," Mark ran his wet hands over the front of his tights. "I'm sure the company will not crumble without you for a few weeks."

With that final word the other man left, slamming the toilet door behind him. Paul stood alone in the toilet with his thoughts and the lingering smell of the Deadman.

* * *

Shawn threw his phone as hard as he could at the sofa. The phone bounced off the leather cushion and landed with a thump against one of the cotton pillows situated in each corner of the sofa. Of course he was painted out to be the villain, never mind that Paul was swanning around somewhere in a whole different part of the country.

Shawn had hung up the conversation because Paul was being unreasonable. Shawn rang his fingers through his hair, his eyes staring at the phone he had thrown. Why was Paul not ringing him back? He usually rang back.

Shawn snatched the phone from the sofa and gave it a quick look over. It was not broken. He pressed one of the buttons and the phone lit into life. Yes it worked. A huge cloud dawned over the Texan and he wished he had not hung up the phone. Had this gone too far? Paul was angry, but so was Shawn, the only difference being that Paul was in Florida surrounded by temptation and Shawn was in his sweatpants in rural Texas.

Should he call back and apologise? His finger loomed over the little star button Paul had set for himself as speed-dial.

"If I call back now then what was the point of the argument?" Shawn snapped. He threw the phone back down on the sofa. "He's wrong."

Tears formed in his eyes but Shawn stubbornly held them back. Although Paul was not here he was not going to allow himself to cry because of that asshole. The phone still did not beep or ring. A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed. Shawn clenched both his fists and left the main living area and went into the kitchen.

The wooden worktops were spotless as usual and the kitchen floor did not have a smudge on them. Why would they? It was something Shawn did every day to pass the time. The house was spotless. Pristine to the point Shawn obsessed over every little thing. Now nobody could enter the kitchen with shoes. If you used cutlery it was to be placed in the sink and not on the side.

It was his life. He cleaned the house every day because what else was there to do? He hunted on the Saturday with his buddies and he went church on the Sunday but that was it. Most mornings Shawn would lie in bad and joke to himself about his clairvoyance – claiming he could see the future because he repeated the same routine daily.

Monday was grocery day. Thursday was the corner shop day in case the milk had gone bad or something. Every other day was a day of cleaning, eating and watching TV. Although lean still, Shawn had lost his passion for rigorous exercise. He'd jog every morning and do a few sit-ups in the afternoon but that was the extent. He knew it wouldn't be long until a spare tire appeared on his gut.

So this was retirement? Shawn thought pathetically as he looked about his large, pristine kitchen. The tears ran down his cheeks at the same time Shawn lowered his body down against the wooden counter until he sat on the floor. This was being married and retired? Shawn shut his eyes. He'd much rather have chanced another year in the ring with a bad back.

* * *

"Thank you sir and please have a pleasant morning," The air hostess had said through a huge smile. Paul forced one in return but promptly shuffled his way through the terminal amongst people who looked just as exhausted as he felt.

A pleasant morning? Paul looked at the digital clock next to the fare indicator inside of the taxi and realised the woman was not kidding. Where had the time gone? It was getting on for 2am and Paul's head not hit a pillow. He was too anxious to sleep during the flight. Too nervous about what he would say to Shawn once he had got home. The Wrestler let out an enormous yawn.

Persuading Vince for early time off had been an easier task then he had originally anticipated. He had wanted to tell an epic tale. A brilliant battle where good conquers evil and the knight vanquishes the dragon and the world is at ease. He wanted to but there really wasn't no need. It was literally,

"Vince, I want some time off work because I miss Shawn."

"Sure. You've got two weeks accumulated and it's about time you used it."

With that Paul had booked himself onto the next flight to San Antonio, Texas and was now minutes away from home. Texas... who'd have thought Paul Levesque would have packed up and moved to dusty old Texas. He smiled to himself. Ah yes, once again that would have been the other half who insisted New Hampshire was too cold for his Texan blood. If only Paul had been Canadian with a bit more bite in him. He'd have loved a good giggle at Shawn.

The taxi pulled up outside of their home and Paul paid the fare and a small tip on top. He lugged the two heavy suitcases out of the trunk of the car and slowly made his way up the steps to the front door. All the lights were off in the house so Shawn was probably in bed. He placed the two cases on the floor and fumbled for his keys.

"You should have called Paul," he muttered to himself. "You best hope he ain't got that Robin Hood bow near his bed."

He pushed the door open with his foot and shuffled himself and his belongings through. The house was silent and a distinct smell of bleach hung in the air. Paul flipped the light switch and staggered backwards against the door. Since when did Shawn clean the house? Shawn's idea of clean was pushing things out of the eyes view and yelling at someone for opening the over-flowing closet. He flicked the light off and went upstairs.

The bedroom door was open and inside Paul could see Shawn's frame under the covers. The soft sounds of Shawn's snoring and his chest moving calmly underneath the duvet told Paul his husband was fast asleep. He smiled softly, Shawn had never been a deep sleeper, and he was usually the first one up in the morning buzzing around the kitchen. If they made up before Shawn got up would Shawn make chocolate chip pancakes? He'd actually missed Shawn's cooking although he'd never admit it out loud.

"Shawn?" Paul said softly as he approached his lover's sleeping form.

The other man moaned softly but rolled over in his sleep. The smile did not leave Paul's face. The argument they had had hours before suddenly seemed unimportant. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through Shawn's hair.

"Shawn. It's me," He said.

"Mmm?" Shawn murmured.

"I said it's me," Paul said with a slight purr. He lent over Shawn and gently blew into the back of his neck. The murmur became a grunt and Shawn turned back around so he faced Paul. His eyes were squinted and barely open.

"Paul? Whauudoingom?" Shawn managed through a massive yawn. Paul rolled his eyes at the incomprehensible question but got the jis. At least he was not being thrown in the spare room, thank god for tiny miracles. Paul crawled onto the bed and managed to budge Shawn from the centre and onto his usual space on the left. He imagined the spot under the covers where Shawn had been lying would still be warm.

He nuzzled the side of Shawn's neck and took in the recognisable smell of his husband. People often said to him it was the little things you would miss when you were away from home. The smell of soap in the bathroom, the familiar squawk of the crow that had nestled in their tree just outside of their window and in some strange way; Paul missed finding long strands of hair on his clothes. At home he'd grumble and compare Shawn to a dog but on the road, any little thing to remind you of someone was special.

"I missed you."

Shawn blinked heavily behind his sleep laden eyes having not quite grasped what was actually happening.

"You're in Florida," Shawn replied.

"Well now I'm in Texas," Paul said with a chuckle.

"Paul... what are you doing in Texas?" Shawn said. He tried to sit up but Paul wrapped his arm around the covers over Shawn's chest and held him close. The world was coming back to the Heart Break Kid.

"I told you already. I missed you so I came home."

"You came all the way from Florida to apologise?"

Paul's eyes narrowed and his nuzzling suddenly stopped. Apologise? Did Shawn really expect an apology? Was not just showing up good enough to let bygones be bygones? Instinctively, Paul's arm loosened around his lover and he pulled away from the sweet smell of Shawn's hair. Paul sat up and face-palmed with exhaustion.

Shawn shifted underneath the covers before he pushed himself up against the headboard and looked at his husband's silhouette through the darkness. He said nothing. Neither of them did. The room was quiet except for their breathing and that damn crow Paul had mentioned earlier. He looked to the window where's the crow's nest was; that guy always had a way of putting his feelings into words.

He made a move to get off the bed but Shawn caught his wrist.

"Shawn..." Paul said after a sigh.

"I didn't mean that." He said quickly.

"I'm not going to apologise," Paul tried to pull his wrist free but Shawn had a good grip on it. "You don't think and you just go off on a tangent"

"You're right and believe me when I say: I regretted hanging up on you"

"Then why didn't you call me back?"

"I... I don't know, man! I- well you're the one who brought up the whole, 'you and your god shit' stuff!"

"Because you accused me of having an affair!" Paul yelled furiously as he snatched his wrist free.

"I did _not _accuse you of having an affair."

"You asked me." Paul shook his head and then pushed himself up from off the bed. The room was still dark except for the moon light coming through the thin linen blinds. This was not how it was supposed to happen! Why did he even listen to Mark? He spotted the first thing closest to him, a travel bag, which he kicked roughly against the opposite wall. He could feel the veins in his neck pulsate.

"Paul... I never said that,"

"You honestly believe I would cheat on you...?" Paul said softly through the darkness. Shawn sucked in his bottom lip without a word. "I wouldn't. Never. Do you know how much it hurts to think how much you don't trust me? We took a vow and you think I took it lightly? I can't apologise Shawn... I can't apologise for your insecurities."

Shawn snivelled softly under his breath as if he was trying to hide his very obvious crying. "You're right... I'm sorry. I got upset because you dismissed something I said and... I've-"

"Missed me?" Paul asked gently.

Shawn nodded his head and hoped Paul was able to see what he was doing. His words had become that dreaded lump he had encountered earlier on this evening. His eyes stung and he could feel them welling up with each passing millisecond. Paul didn't move so Shawn just said despite the obvious breakages in his voice:

"Yeah... I missed you. I-it's been five weeks and I understand that your job-"

"Shawn, my job isn't how you remember it. I don't _just _wrestle now."

"I know! I know I know I know!" Shawn said almost desperately, "It doesn't matter though because you're here now and-"

"No Shawn it does matter. It does," Paul approached the bed and sat down on the edge. "It matters because I will have to go back to work in two weeks and you'll be on your own here with these paranoid delusions that I'm sleeping around."

The words stung Shawn and for a second the other man was at loss of what to say. He looked down at their shared bed covers and could faintly make out the brown patterned decorations on top of the cream base colour. He looked up and met the dark eyes of his lover. Shawn opened his mouth to say something but shut it again. He winced, literal confrontations terrified him no matter who the individual was.

Finally, Shawn said something. "Can't... Can't we just go back a bit? Start again maybe...? I fucked up my line and caused an argument." Shawn sniffed up, "I was meant to say I missed you, it's great to see you and then just.. y'know... cuddles"

Paul smiled despite himself. It was not every day Shawn apologised and then asked for 'cuddles' in the same sentence. Paul kicked off his shoes and proceeded to get undressed except for his boxer shorts. The spot he had longed for had probably gone cold now or at best lukewarm. He lifted the covers up and scooted underneath.

He found Shawn and pulled the slightly leaner man closer against his chest. He nestled his chin within the curve of Shawn's neck and shoulder blade and exhaled softly. Every couple had their arguments; Paul used to say to himself whenever they had a spat. It was normal. But when did their little spats cross the line into lack of trust? When did Shawn begin to fear Paul would no longer be loyal? The long distances? Rumours? He felt Shawn shudder against his hold as he tried to contain the emotions that spilled from every pore.

"Despite the aggravation and the ability you have of making me age faster," Paul whispered before he placed a gentle kiss against Shawn's neck. "I do love you."

"It's just a shame I ruined it really... isn't I?"

Paul furrowed his brow, "What have you ruined?"

"This whole surprise shindig... Now it just feels awkward and forced," Shawn's entire body suddenly tensed within Paul's arms. "I didn't mean awkward and forced as in I'm only playing along in a charade way. I mean, it... it doesn't-"

Before Shawn could put his foot in his mouth any more than it was, Paul rolled his husband over to face him and then silenced him with a kiss. They broke the kiss and shared a smile between them. "That mouth's been getting you into trouble since the early 90s, Shawn. If you can't control it now then I doubt you ever will."

He wiped the wet patches from Shawn's face. "Go to sleep, Michael"

Shawn laughed, that loud sudden laugh he did when you caught him off guard. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"You're doing it again Shawn. I'm gonna have to shut you up," he lent in for another kiss but Shawn pulled away. Their lips were centimetres apart.

"I need to explain what I meant this evening on the phone," Shawn tried but Paul shook his head not wanting to start this up when they had just literally finished it. He pressed his nose against Shawn's and closed his eyes.

"It can wait till morning. What are you cooking for breakfast?" Paul asked as he snuggled down into his pillow.

"I thought you hated my cooking," Shawn replied before he let out a small yawn.

"It's that or starve..." he whispered before they both went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The wish had come true. Piled high on his plate were the chocolate chip pancakes which were smothered in chocolate sauce, maple syrup and a lump of butter on top of the stack. Artery clogging goodness: the perfect way to start his vacation from work. There was even a pot of coffee and the morning newspaper. The Game took a swig from his coffee mug. He could not wait to retire.

Shawn sat opposite him on the four seater rectangular table. He was already dressed in his usual black vest, light blue jeans with the largest belt buckle he could find and reading glasses tipped on the edge of his nose. No boots though, he was barefoot as shoes were no longer allowed in the house. In Paul's opinion, it was a stupid rule of the kitchen. No shoes? The kitchen connected to the back door and the stupid cat could walk freely in from the outside without wiping its paws. Sat in his boxers and purple robe, Paul watched on cue as the scruffy feline entered the house through the back-door cat flap. It mewed softly, looking up at Paul before it continued its trot out of the kitchen. Shawn did not even look up.

Paul smiled over his breakfast; it always made him smug with amusement whenever Shawn wore his black reading glasses. He was making his way through the small amount of mail he had collected as soon as the postman had passed. Typical Shawn; he awoke when the 'crow' crowed.

"Don't smirk. One day you will need them," he muttered whilst he read one of the letters still not bothering to look up.

"How can you know I'm smirking? You've not even looked up," Paul countered.

"Because I've been married to you for five years," he muttered casually before he slipped that letter back into its original envelope and took out another one.

"You always were a morning person, HBK"

Shawn looked up from over his letters at long last and straight at his husband. Paul smiled, winked his right eye with a nod of his head before he shovelled a whole pancake into his mouth. Shawn sat back, now he had seen everything.

"I'm just a sexy boy," Paul said through a mouthful of pancakes.

"Sorry Paul... I've sort of grown attached to not sharing my mornings," He said with an awkward smile.

"In the same way you've grown attached to not sharing a bed. You almost kicked me out of bed three times last night," He dipped a piece of pancake into the butter and chocolate sauce. "At one point I thought I was gonna have ta pin you down, use all my weight and sleep on top of you. You've not felt all that on top of you for a while, aye?"

"Did you know you're still subscribed to Fitness Monthly?" Shawn asked with a red tint in his cheeks.

Paul smirked. "Are you blushing?"

Shawn looked up almost aghast with himself. His lip twitched and his eyes darted from the letter to Paul. Paul wiped his mouth with one of the tea towels and his grin just beamed across the kitchen table.

"Shawn? Shawnie... are you blushing?" He asked with delight.

"Because we don't ever seem to get any Fitness Monthly magazines delivered to this address but the bills always get here. How do they figure that one out? Is it a gift subscription? Did we get it your uncle or-"

"It's been over a month..."

Shawn looked up and held the letter out, "You signed your uncle up a month ago? So why are we getting the annual bill?"

Paul batted the bill out of Shawn's hand. The crisp letter skimmed through the air until it hit the fridge with a sharp bounce. Paul slid out of his seat and made his way across the other side of the table. Shawn's eyes were glued on him whereas his arm remained out-reached as if they were still holding the letter.

"C'mon man, don't go all blushing virgin on me now. I remember when we used to be able to go all night long in Vince's office," He knelt down on the right hand side of Shawn and placed his hand on the other man's leg.

Shawn smirked, "I remember when he caught us."

"It didn't bother me baby, you were the one bent over the desk and at the time was supposed to be his star attraction," His hand gently wrapped around the back of Shawn's neck and led him down for a deep kiss. It lasted a few seconds before Shawn pulled himself back up.

"You're still as vulgar now as you were back then, man" Shawn said with a deep laugh.

"Wasn't that what attracted me to you, boy toy?" He purred.

Shawn shrugged. "No. It was the nose that did it for me,"

"Come 'ere..." Paul growled and guided Shawn into yet another deep, passionate kiss. He opened his mouth and on cue the Heartbreak Kid slipped his tongue in. The kiss was wet and hungry, both going in for more with vigour. Paul moaned and pulled his robe belt free from its loops.

_Bing bong_

Shawn pulled out from the kiss and looked to the front door. Paul, whose hand was still cupped around the back of Shawn's neck tried to push him in for another kiss but Shawn pulled back. Paul's nose collided with Shawn's cheek for a playful nuzzle but he whined impatiently.

"It's too early to answer the door. C'mon..." Paul tried to go back for another kiss but Shawn just seemed to lift his head up to look at the door again. Paul's tongue licked the frames of the glasses but that was it. He growled, this was not going to work.

"It could be a Jehovah Witness, Paul. I need to answer the door," Shawn was about to stand up but Paul held him back down.

"What? That is the complete opposite reaction you should have to a Jehovah Witness!" Paul whined, "C'mon man you're not even a Jehovah Witness. You said yourself they don't like Christmas..."

"But anybody who wants to talk about our lord should be able to," He tried to get up again but the desperate Paul held on.

"Shawn! Shawn! Please I beg you, don't let them in. They don't leave!" He nuzzled at his husband's neck, "Aren't you the least bit turned on?"

"I was... but then our lord came calling and I know his word comes before my pleasure," Shawn got up and walked towards the door.

"But what about my pleasure?" Paul whimpered pathetically when Shawn answered the door.

* * *

They had greeted each other on a first term basis. He was Michael Hickenbottom-Levesque and the two croonies were Elliot Stanford and Richard Harrison. They were going to compare god notes or something ridiculous

It was not quite Paul's game. Paul himself was not even a Christian, or at least he was not in the same way Shawn was. Paul believed in a god. He believed there was a mighty power which looked around those who needed the help. Did he believe in the god the church spoke about? No. Because the first and only time Shawn had taken him to his local church, he was looked at like a circus freak.

The two resident queers. It was all right though, the little one would repent every morning and evening for both their souls not to burn too crispy in hell. It made Paul shake with anger. Shawn made out it was all Paul's head. That he was seeing what he expected to see and not through the eyes of the lord. Bullshit. He loved the man but he could sprout bullshit.

Whilst the god squad did their thing; Paul tapped away on the internet looking for anything to google. In the next room he could hear them discussing their beliefs, comparing passages of the bible and trying to convey what they personally believed it to be. Paul rolled his eyes and tapped into the google search bar:

**How to shut up a Christian**

It was a top answer. Paul smirked but wasted no time right clicking and clearing his internet history. The last thing he wanted was another argument. Paul sat back and looked sadly at the empty google bar. Neither one of them had mentioned the argument last night but it still hung heavy in the air. He rubbed his thick stubble around his chin and shut his eyes. They could not keep avoiding the elephant in the room. Paul, could not keep avoiding the elephant in the room.

**My husband thinks I'm cheating, how do I prove him wrong**

The Google search page burst into life with millions and millions of results. He looked over his shoulder cautiously, the noise in the other room made his ears tingle. The last thing he wanted was Shawn to see _this G_oogle history. How would he be able to live it down if The Game had to ask an internet search engine for relationship advice?

He clicked the first link and was taken to a Marriage and Partner website. It's green background and serene pictures of silhouettes kissing in the background made Paul inwardly cringe. Was this really how things happened? Did nobody ever call Jerry Springer or Ricky Lake anymore? Shawn was redneck enough to get an interview on there at least.

Paul read the first comment which pretty much repeated the title:

_My husband thinks I'm cheating on him. I'm not. I don't know who I should turn to or who to talk to about this. Please help._

There were plenty of replies to the forum post. Most of them were from young women in the same situation as the original poster. No advice, no constructive advice. Just desperate women who couldn't confront their husbands and if they did; they argued. An argument like yesterday... Paul shuddered.

_U need to talk 2 him. Why does he think this? No offensse but there is no smoke withut fire._

"Oh fuck you anonymous," Paul growled.

Shit. He covered his mouth with both hands and snapped his attention back at the door. His ears still tingled, he could hear the voices of Shawn and the God Squad chatting away in the next room. Paul removed his hands from his mouth and exhaled a sigh of relief. He clicked back onto the google search page and clicked the second link.

Yahoo Answers. Paul cringed again. This shit was tedious. The question was the same as the one from the partner and marriage forum. This time however, the answers were a little more... Yahoo Answers.

_End it now. Your relationship sucks._

_Your husband is paranoid – dump that idiot!_

_Y is he paranoid? Clearly you brke his trust – slagg! xDD_

_Book a physical vacation and rebuild some love and trust. Worked for me and my husband – we went camping and came back best friends and lovers after two weeks of hard work, freezing our nips off and canned beef lol!_

Book a physical vacation? Paul sat back in his seat. That was how he met Shawn pretty much; through a physical job. Camping though? It was not his cup of tea but he knew Shawn would be down for it. The man loved crawling around in the dirt looking for deer's to shoot. It would have to be quirky though. There needed to be more than deer shooting and sleeping on the dirt to make both Shawn and he became a unit again.

The idea suddenly hit him.

He grinned from ear to ear as he tapped furiously at the laptop in front of him. This was going to be great. There must have been a last minute deal somewhere on the internet to accommodate his idea of an extreme romantic getaway. This was the internet where anything was possible. Sure enough, he found a website he was looking for.

"What are you doing?" The deep, gravel sounding voice of Shawn asked just inches away from Paul's ear. The larger man let out a small 'ah!' before he minimized the internet back to the desktop.

"How long have you been standing there?" Paul asked nervously. Shawn, unimpressed, furrowed his brow at the desktop as he hung behind Paul. "I thought you were talking to your friends?"

"I was but they left," Shawn tried to lean over Paul's shoulder to grab the mouse. "What are you looking at?"

"Jesus man, stop being so nosey." Paul spun round in his chair, wrapped his arms around Shawn's waist and easily pulled his husband onto his lap. "It's a surprise."

Shawn did not look convinced. His eyebrows were still furrowed suspiciously and his lips were pressed together tightly as if he was holding back what he was really thinking. No smoke without fire? Paul bah-humbugged the very notion that he would have given Shawn any suspicion to think the way he was.

"What do you think I was doing..?" He asked quietly.

"I don't know. You just shut it down pretty quickly,"

"I'm not doing anything I shouldn't be, Shawn"

"I'm not saying you are! I'm just saying... let's say... if I did that, you'd probably get defensive and demand to look at the computer," Shawn countered.

"Are you saying you want to search the computer?" Paul challenged.

"Have you got something to hide?" Shawn growled.

Paul had nothing to hide but then again, he just remembered that he had cleared the internet history to hide his embarrassing Google Advice searches. He bit his bottom lip. Shawn would have thought the worst if he did sit down at the computer and tried to look at the history. That would not escalate into rowing, Paul feared that could escalate into false accusations.

"I was looking at going away with you somewhere. Come round." Paul twisted the seat back around to face the computer and clicked the computer screen open. The purple background and large, mountain photos spoke louder than Paul himself could have. Shawn's shoulders loosened and his eyes softened. At least he realised he was in the wrong.

"Shawn..." Paul rested his chin on Shawn's shoulder. "We need to talk about this"

"You shut it down quickly, you would have reacted the same way"

As much as Paul hated to admit it, he may have actually been worse if the internet browser was not opened as soon as he asked. He may have done it himself by any means necessary. The Yahoo answers swam around in his head.

"Did you have a nice time with your Christians?" Paul asked awkwardly trying to salvage whatever conversation they could have now.

"I'm sorry, Paul."

"Really? That was-"

"If I'm wrong I do apologise!" Shawn barked.

"Woah I never said you didn't! You don't have to apologise here though because I was being suspicious."

"For god's sake why are we arguing?"

"Shawn, we're not arguing!"

"You're raising your voice at me"

"Because you keep yelling!"

"I am not yelling!" Shawn shouted.

"Then why are you raising your voice like this?!" Paul practically screamed.

"Erm hello? Am I interrupting?"

Shawn and Paul both looked at each other for a brief moment, their faces as red as cherry tomatoes and their breathing ragged. Both turned and there stood in the hallway was a small, old woman.

"What are you doing in my house?" Paul was the first to ask.

"Our, house" Shawn muttered under his breath. Paul glared at Shawn, his temper still high and the intrusion of a little old lady was not helping him. What the hell was with today? Arguments, Jehovah Witnesses and now random appearing old ladies. It was a mad house!

"Well... I did knock"

"So you invited yourself in?" Paul demanded.

"Stop being an ass!" Shawn growled. He climbed off of Paul's lap and walked into the hallway where the old lady was still standing. "Maureen!"

The old lady smiled and nodded her head in agreement. Her brown hair was frizzy and matted with grey which shaped her frail face. A small breeze could have taken Maureen flying over their barn.

"I'm sorry to come in unannounced Michael but I heard yelling and I was worried," she looked at Paul. "Is this Paul?"

"Yes. Paul, this is Maureen. She moved next door three weeks ago with her son Kyle. Maureen, this is Paul. He's being unreasonable this morning."

Paul rolled his eyes but once again said nothing. He was still dressed in his bathrobe and took this as a cue just to let Shawn do whatever the hell Shawn did nowadays with old people. He pushed by, his shoulder rubbing with Shawn which no doubt made the other man glare daggers into the back of Paul's neck. He was beyond caring now.

From his bedroom Paul could hear both Shawn and Maureen talking. Their words were mumbled by the distance but he could tell from Shawn's tone that he was being apologetic and trying to accommodate whatever it was she wanted. Pail hoped that by the time he had been in the shower she would be gone. He showered and had just finished pulling on a T-shirt when the two people downstairs suddenly burst into loud laughter. She was still here?

Yeah, I bet it's hard to put her down; Paul thought angrily as he buckled up his belt and made his way back downstairs. They were both in the kitchen with a cup of coffee each. Shawn must have found time to clean the kitchen in-between the God people and the old woman. How this was possible Paul had no clue. Must have been the power of prayer.

"Paul, Maureen was just telling me about Kyle." Shawn said out loud when Paul entered the kitchen.

"Who?"

"My son. He's a big fan of yours," She said with a smile.

Paul opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. "Oh yeah sorry, you did mention you had a son." Talk about having kids later on in life, he thought as he popped open the milk carton. "So... he wants an autograph?"

Maureen laughed. "If you don't mind?"

"Sure," Paul took a swig from the milk carton, he could see over the carton the disgusted flinch Shawn made. Small victories, he thought happily. He approached the table and sat down opposite Maureen, next to Shawn.

"You got a pen, Shawn?"

"I'll get you one and a glass," Shawn said as he got up from the table and went into the other room.

"He would have come round himself but he's having a bad day," Maureen said in her soft, pleasant Texas accent. She sipped her coffee.

"It's fine. We all have days like that," he took another swig from the carton seconds before Shawn slammed a glass down on the table. Shawn said nothing, he placed the pen and memo pad paper next to the glass and retook his seat. Paul smirked.

"Thanks babe," Paul poured himself a glass of milk and then signed the piece of paper with usual HHH signature before he handed it to her.

"Thank you ever so much, this will make his day," Maureen stood up from her seat and held the memo paper by its corner as if afraid any dent would ruin it. "I best get back to Kyle before he wonders where I am. Would you both like to come over for dinner tonight? Let Kyle thank you personally."

Paul was about to thank Maureen for her generous offer but Shawn and himself were busy. Busy packing, because surely by now there would be an email in his inbox confirming their booking. He was about to – but Shawn interrupted.

"We would love to. What time?"

Paul slunk back in his seat. What was the use? He took a gulp from his glass of milk.

"Six? Kyle goes to bed at nine."

"It's a date," Shawn said like an old jester. Paul rolled his eyes whilst the two oldies walked to the door and arranged their dinner party. The door shut and Shawn returned to the kitchen. He stood at the door frame looking in at his husband.

"Are you still pissed off at me?" Shawn asked.

"From earlier? No. From now. Yes." Paul drained the remains of his glass, stood up and placed it in the sink.

"What? Why? It's very rare we get invited round for dinner somewhere," Shawn said in disbelief.

"Because there will be an email in my inbox confirming our reservations for our trip. How the hell are we going to find time to pack if we're round there for several hours?"

"What? Paul we have an entire day to pack," Shawn replied still quite perplexed.

"Just... do me a favour and just cancel the invitation? Something has come up and we can't make it," Paul turned around and lent back against the sink. Shawn crossed his arms over his torso, his eyes narrowed angrily.

"Paul." He said firmly.

"Shawn, I don't feel like entertaining kids tonight. It's my first evening with you and I want us to spend it together. Maybe that's selfish but it's what I want. I did travel hundreds of miles last minute to get here."

Shawn sighed. "But what about Kyle?"

"What about him? Kids get disappointed at some point in life and we can go round there another time. Shawn, we're only a minute or two away from his front door."

Shawn did not look too convinced. "But he knows we were supposed to be coming, man. When we let him down he will have a tantrum and that's not fair on Maureen. She don't deserve it," Shawn wanted to add: _Just because you're being an asshole_, but he held onto it.

"Slipper to the ass, Shawn." Was Paul's simple response.

"... He's a bit big for a slipper to the ass."

"Then he should be mature enough to understand we can't make it," Paul approached Shawn at the door frame. "Besides, _you_ of all people, should know that nobody is too big for the slipper."

Shawn rolled his eyes and a small smile cracked at the corner of his lips despite himself. "Paul, don't try to deflect this conversation with humour."

"I'm not," Paul placed both of his hands against the wall, either side of Shawn's head. He leaned in closer so they were nose to nose. He grinned, Shawn had an uncanny way of looking cute whenever he was fighting a losing battle. Even in the ring, he could get the crowd behind him if he was receiving a pummelling of his life. Shawn, for his line of work and in comparison to the guys he worked with, was the cute little guy despite how gruff his voice was and how macho his hobby of hunting was.

"We can't cancel on them," Shawn whined.

"Do you want me to tell them?" Paul asked softly.

Shawn looked torn. His eyes darted between Paul's eyes and the floor in a desperate and frantic search for an answer. Even now after all these years, after all the God searching and the lack of drugs and alcohol: Shawn still could not make a decision.

If you poked hard enough you could get him to do anything. Like Paul had in Montreal with Vince regarding Bret Hart. 'I'll do what you want me to do' was Shawn's response. It tore him up for years, Shawn was already an unstable mess and that just pushed him further. Paul convinced Shawn that it was not his plan and Shawn knew every reason why it was the right decision. Nevertheless, Shawn had told Paul months later; he was the assassin. He was paid to kill the Hitman. There was no escaping that.

Since then, Paul tried not to force. He did try. But sometimes a man just wants his way.

"Shawn, do you want me to go round there and cancel the evening?" He asked kindly. Shawn's eyes finally met Paul's and kept contact. "I will take full responsibility and any blame."

"I don't know," he said finally, almost out of breath and defeated. "I don't want to fight about this."

"Shawn, babe, we're not fighting. We're not... I'm asking you a question," He moved his hand from the wall and brushed Shawn's cheek with his thumb. "Do you want me to go over there? Yes or no?"

Shawn was silent. Paul waited. At some point Shawn would have to make a decision whether he liked it or not. Finally, he said: "No."

"Are _you_ going over then?" Paul asked.

"No." He said again.

"Fine," Paul said with an aggravated breath. "Fine. I best find a nice shirt then."

Paul was about to turn around and leave when Shawn wrapped his arms around the other man's neck and brought him in closer. Shawn pushed his lips against his husband's and Paul returned the gesture. They kissed for a moment, against the door frame which connected their kitchen to the hallway. Paul smiled into Shawn's mouth, of all the place's to make up.


	3. Chapter 3

"Isn't it sort of a dinner party thing? I mean, isn't there an unwritten law that states we have to take a gift or something?" Shawn asked from in front of the mirror where he was trying to fix his bolo tie.

"You're supposed to take a bottle of wine," Paul called through to the hallway. The chances of having a bottle of wine in the house was nil. Shawn had given up alcohol completely before they had even married and Paul was never much of a wine man. There were a few beers in the fridge from before Paul went back on tour with the WWE but that was it.

Paul could hear Shawn silently curse from the hallway and he smiled to himself. They had spent most of the day packing, double-checking all of their reservations had been received and of course making up in the nicest possible way imaginable. Regardless, Paul still did not feel like going round to the neighbours. What would they talk about? They would have to find common ground before a real conversation could take place and that was a lot of hard work when all Paul wanted to do was eat.

Paul had settled on a white shirt with black trousers (not tucked). He had tied his hair back into a neat ponytail but that was the most presentable he was willing to look for the old woman and kid next door. He had not even trimmed his facial hair. His handlebar was beginning to turn into a goatee and if he left it any longer perhaps a survivalist beard. Perfect for the holiday he had lined up for the two of them.

Shawn appeared, his fingers still fiddling with the bolo around his neck. He looked the neater of the two of them with his white shirt, tucked into his trousers and his cliché straw cowboy hat on his head. It hid his shame of having to admit he was joining the Hulk Hogan hair club. "What do we take then? Does it have to be alcohol?"

"There's a can of beer in the fridge," Paul said with a smile. "Prove to her you're a redneck at heart."

"Do we have any snobby cookies in a posh box? We tend to get something like that from JR at Christmas," Shawn said more to himself than to Paul. He got onto his knees, opened one of the bottom cupboards looking for whatever it was he was describing.

"Shawn, I don't think she'll hold it against us if we just went over there with a smile."

"It's the thought man, it's the thought." He called back from his position of almost being in the cupboard completely. Paul rolled his eyes, if there was a box of cookies in there then chances are if they are that far back then they were out of date by four years.

"You usually eat the cookies," Paul opened the fridge and grabbed the milk carton. "Take a candle? She's old. Old people love candles, they read beside them. Your mother bought us a candle for Easter."

"What will be mother say when she comes in and that candle is gone?" Shawn pulled out of the cupboard.

"Thank god that ugly candle is gone. It was clogging up the telephone table," Shawn frowned. "Just tell her you lit it."

"Good thinking!" Shawn pulled out of the cupboard and pushed it shut with his foot.

"I am a genius," Paul said with a huge grin. He was about to swig from the carton but the passing Wrestler took the carton from his hand and continued out into the hallway in search of the candle.

* * *

Both men stood outside on the doormat of an old house which probably belonged to a family of rangers many moons ago. The night was dry and their old pal the Crow had nestled in the night making the land very quiet except for their shuffling. Shawn turned to Paul and pointed to his tie.

"Is it on okay?" How was it supposed to be on; was Paul's first thought? It was a bulls head with two long pieces of string coming out of its head and two little balls on the end. It looked to be on right? He'd never seen the things tied up whenever he watched Dallas or Bonanza. Paul just nodded and Shawn smiled. He knocked the door.

"I'm glad we're finally getting rid of this stupid candle," Paul whispered as lifted the item in question up so Shawn could see it.

"My mother bought us that candle," Shawn whispered back defensively.

"Doesn't make it any less ugly," Paul hissed.

"Hi!" They both said simultaneously when the door of the old ranch house opened and Maureen stood before them in a long, floral designed dress. The old lady smiled, opened the door wider and saw them both in.

"C'mon in boys, Kyle will be thrilled to see you." Maureen said happily after she had shut the door behind the two men.

"Thank you mam," Shawn said. He removed his hat from his head and held it in front of him. He looked at Paul and nodded to the candle. Paul blinked, not quite sure. "We bought you a candle," Shawn finished.

"Oh yeah!" Paul held out the ugly brown and yellow block of wax, "It was this or a can of Bud."

Maureen looked positively perplexed for a moment. Arms outright and a forced toothy grin, Paul waited expectantly for the woman to take the candle from his hands. Seconds passed. Paul bounced a little on his heels. A few more seconds. Finally, the old woman smiled and took the candle.

"Thank you. You didn't have to bring me a... candle... but thank you. It's lovely, I can't wait to light it. Please go on through to the dining room."

Shawn and Paul walked side by side to the dining room as requested. Shawn was the first to hiss,

"That was fucking awkward. She must think we're weird."

"Chill out, she could hardly give it back to us."

"She may as well have. She didn't get it, oh man it's bad enough being the weird one in Church and now I'm the creepy neighbour. I wasn't creepy this morning, man. We drank coffee."

Paul frowned but said nothing. That was Shawn being Shawn. He was not thinking, he was talking. Flapping about like a penguin hoping the situation would just go away. He probably did not even mean to bring up church. He could have brought up how he felt in the locker room during the nineties but he picked something a little nearer the time. Something he forgot would upset his husband.

The dining room was actually quite grand for an old ranch house. The table was long, a six seater with a white throw thrown over for the dinner party occasion. The cutlery looked to be the best and the empty glass cabinet to their left indicated it was the best China. For an old bag she was a classy lady; maybe they were on the right line but a chandelier would have been more suited to her taste.

Shawn pulled a chair out for Paul and then took one nearest to that one on the right. Paul could tell he was flustered already.

"It was a candle, Shawn. You didn't eat her first born child." Paul hissed. "Just relax."

"Oh man we should have come round here and cancelled this morning..." Shawn continued.

"Will you just shut up? For god's sake Shawn, eat a bread roll or something"

"She's not said I can have one, man. She might think that's rude and-"

Paul grabbed the basket of bread rolls their host had planted on the table. He took one, crushed it down a little in his hand and forced it in-between Shawn's teeth. Back went the basket. He pointed to the butter nearer to Shawn.

"Blame me," Paul said. Shawn glared at Paul from the corner of his eye as he bit into the bread roll and pulled half of it out of his mouth whilst he ate the other half.

"I just want to thank you again for both the autograph this morning and the candle," Maureen said when she walked back into the dining room holding a bottle of wine. "Kyle was so happy and he can't wait to meet you tonight, Paul. Wine?"

"Sure," Paul said. Although not much of a wine person it would have been rude not to.

Shawn politely shook his head because his mouth was too full of bread to actually create a sentence. Maureen nodded and filled her own glass with wine and placed the bottle on the table.

"So, where is the little guy?" Paul asked. He picked up his wine, amazed by how fruity it smelt and then took a sip.

"Upstairs in his room. I've not told him you're here yet – I don't want him too excited before dinner otherwise he won't eat it." She smiled again at Paul.

"Oh. Well I can't wait to meet him, isn't that right Shawn?" Shawn nodded his head still trying to finish the bread roll he was eating. "Shawn mentioned you live here on your own with Kyle."

"Yes, after his father died I suppose we just decided it was time to move out of town. My folks had left me this ranch in their will and we moved in a few weeks ago. It's nice but very quiet," she took another sip of her wine. "Except for you two of course. I could hear you both last night and this morning."

Maureen had laughed therefore Paul had seen it as his turn to join in. "Think of the neighbours! Oh boy," Paul chuckled again. "I'm sorry Maureen I didn't think anyone could hear us. Wooden walls are thin – gotta remember that." Shawn, on the other hand was completely ashen.

"What do you hear?" He asked promptly.

"What? Oh well... I-" Maureen stammered.

"She hears us arguing," Paul interjected.

"Yes, I'm sorry you mentioning it..." Maureen stood up from the table. "I will just go fetch Kyle and we can start dinner."

She got up and left.

"Dude, why are you being so defensive? I thought I was the rude one." Paul hissed as soon as the door shut behind the older woman.

"She can hear us arguing... you've been home one day and she already knows we argue non-stop"

"What? We don't argue non-stop. We didn't argue once this afternoon"

"Paul, you don't tend to argue during make-up sex." Shawn muttered grumpily. He grabbed another bread roll and took a bite out of the top.

"And if you had listened to me in the first place we wouldn't be eating bread rolls with the neighbours we would be continuing to 'make-up' for lost time."

Paul also grabbed a bread roll and took an enormous bite out of the top. Both of them sat there, stewing in their own juices as they chopped angrily on the bread rolls Maureen had set out for them.

"You could have made the decision not to come..." Shawn grumbled.

"Well maybe it's about time you started making your own decisions rather than constantly depending on me," Paul snapped through a mouthful of bread. "You made a decision to come here. Great that means all this is totally on you and I'm not to blame. Don't blame me for not making the decision when you finally did!"

"Just drop it Paul," Shawn sighed.

"You're the one who tried to have the last say. I'm not letting you put this one me. I didn't want to come here."

"I don't always-" Shawn found himself cut off when Maureen entered the room again. He smiled, a large toothy smile only Paul knew was fake but likewise, he wore a similar one. The old lady, opened the door a bit wider.

"Come on honey, I've got some people in here who want to see you,"

Paul stood up from his seat and got onto his knees so he could be eye-to-eye with his fan. Shawn, looked down at him and shook his head vigorously mouthing the word 'no'. Paul raised his eyebrow.

"Say hello Kyle," Paul had no time to stand up. He snapped his attention back to the door. His eyes widened at the sight.

Kyle may have been the lady's son but he was no small lad. Through the doorframe walked a large, round six foot four men. His beard was unkempt and his eyes covered by large, black rimmed spectacles which made his eyes look 2x larger than they were. He looked ready for bed in his rocket covered pyjama bottoms and Dallas University T-shirt. At the sight of The Game on the floor, Kyle beamed a lopsided grin exposing a few missing teeth.

"Triple H!" He said with a lisp. He pointed. "Triple H!"

Paul got back to his feet. This was not what he expected.

"Hey buddy," he said, "Nice to meet you. Your mom said you were a massive fan"

Kyle continued to stand there with a huge grin on his face. He looked to his mother and then back at 'Triple H' as if this was some kind of strange dream. He stepped closer and held his arm out to Triple H.

"Can I touch you?" he asked. Paul stepped closer and took Kyle's hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze. The man laughed loudly, looking back for his mother's approval. She smiled and nodded her head, giving him the thumbs up.

"Triple H," he looked at Shawn, "Look. Look. Triple H."

"I see him," Shawn replied kindly.

"Don't you know Shawn? We used to wrestle together, do you remember Shawn?" Paul stepped backwards, still with Kyle's hand in his and brought him closer to Shawn. Shawn stood up from his seat and nodded a welcome. True Texan, Paul thought with glee.

Kyle looked at Shawn briefly and nodded his head.

"Triple H." He said.

"No, I'm Shawn Michaels."

Kyle looked blank. He looked at the hand holding his and smiled. "I like Triple H."

Maureen stepped forward. "Honey, this is Shawn Michaels. He used to wrestle with Triple H. Do you remember? He was Triple H's partner. Do you remember?" She crossed her wrists. Both Shawn and Paul were surprised. "DX?"

Kyle laughed shortly, a large Goose like noise. He reached out with his other hand and placed it on Shawn's shoulder. "DX. DX." He said.

"Sit down opposite Triple H and I will finish up dinner," Maureen said softly. She placed a hand on Kyle's side and gently pried him away from Paul and Shawn. She led him around the table, Kyle's eyes gleaming with pride as he walked. He sat down with a thump. Paul and Shawn took their places again.

"So who's your favourite Wrestler?" Paul asked when Maureen had left the room. Paul snorted, he ran his fingers through his fluffy beard and stuck his tongue out. "Who's your favourite Wrestler?"

"You!" He said excitedly.

"Who's after him?" Shawn asked.

"Triple H" Kyle said proudly.

Paul, sat back with a huge grin. "I am the best, I do agree."

"Other than Triple H?" Shawn continued desperate to get something else out of Kyle and knock Paul off his proverbial horse. Kyle looked up, his mind ticking away in deep thought. "Big Show." He said at last.

"Big Show is pretty cool," Paul added. "He's one of my favourites too."

"You bring Big Show"? He asked.

"No he's not with us," Shawn said.

"Why?"

Shawn blinked. "Because err he's at work."

"Why?" Kyle asked again.

"Next time I see Big Show, I'll be sure to let him know he has a biiiiig fan here in Texas. In fact, next time Big Show comes over for barbecue," Paul lent forward and whispered, "I'll invite you and your mom. Sound good?"

His smile was contagious and each time it beamed Paul found himself beaming as well. He looked at Shawn, who was also smiling although not quite as into it as he was. Perhaps it was because he was not too sure who Shawn Michaels was. After-all, if he liked Big Show chances were he watched RAW when Shawn Michaels retired first time round due to his back.

"Can we have a barbecue now?" He asked.

"But your mom's cooking for us now, Kyle" Shawn said.

"So? I want a barbecue" Kyle said more matter of factly.

"Even if we did have a barbecue now Kyle, Big Show wouldn't make it here on time," Kyle looked away and pouted. "Hey man, look at me. I promise you: next time I see Big Show I will make sure he comes and eats barbecue with you or my name ain't Triple H"

Kyle perked up. His smile growing and his laughter bouncing off the wall. Paul nudged Shawn, "I like this guy."

* * *

"Do you like... Michael Jackson?"

This game had been going on throughout dinner. Maureen had cooked a delicious meatloaf with a variety of potatoes whilst Paul tried to get to know his new biggest fan. The wine was in full flow, three bottles now on the table and two of them empty and the third a third drunk. Shawn looked at his watch, it was well past nine, well past Kyle's bedtime as his mother had mentioned earlier that morning.

"I love Michael Jackson! Mom! Michael Jackson!" Kyle cackled and his mother nodded her head just as impressed. She had shared the wine with Paul, slightly tipsy herself whereas Kyle and Shawn had stuck to the cordial lemon juice. The night was slow and they still had to wait for the dessert or something.

"Oh Paul you are so wonderful with Kyle," Maureen said with positive delight. "So hands on, so understanding. If only you batted for the other team," she winked at him before a small giggle escaped her puckered lips.

With a lopsided grin, Paul replied: "Well... I don't just bat for one team if you catch my drift."

They both snorted and then broke into laughter. Kyle, not quite understanding the joke, picked up on the laughter and joined in the chortling. Shawn, on the other hand, sat back in his seat. He had spent the entire night watching both people get shit-faced and flirt non-stop. Alcohol caused or not, it still burnt him up inside.

"Well in that case when the cats away the mice can play," She purred.

"I'm the one always on the road. Shawn's the housewife," Paul wrapped a heavy arm around Shawn's shoulders and practically knocked the smaller man into the table. "Ain't ya Shawnie?"

Shawn winced. Two things, he had said two things he hated Paul saying out loud in public. Housewife and Shawnie. Paul pulled Shawn towards his body, almost pulling him out of the chair. "He's beautiful so you keep your talons off him or you'll be having words with me!"

"How would I get a firm word from you without involving your Achilles heel then?" She asked playfully.

"Well if you-"

"Where's the dessert?" Shawn said as loud as he physically could have without it being interpreted as shouting. "We have to be up in the morning, Paul."

"Oh Shawnie don't you be worrying about the time," Paul pinched his nose. "We'll be fine and we only live next door."

"Paul don't-" Before Shawn could finish his sentence, Paul did just what Shawn was about to tell him not to do. He pinched his nose again.

"Stop worrying. You always worry, we will work that out tonight," He grinned.

"It's only a trifle Shawn, it just needs taking out of the fridge," Maureen looked to her son. "C'mon you. I forgot it was way past your bedtime"

"Can I say night to Triple H?"

Paul stood up and the two of them hugged goodnight and then Kyle was gone with his mother. Paul smiled, he was quite fond of the big bear.

"Nice guy. Great taste in wrestlers," Paul turned on Shawn. "You have to agree, Sexyboy."

"For someone who didn't want to come here you're sure enjoying yourself," Shawn muttered.

Paul shrugged his shoulders and simply 'pffted' his husband's comments with a short laugh. He sat down at his seat, grabbed the bottle of wine and topped up his glass. Shawn shook his head.

"Haven't you had enough?" He asked.

Paul shook his head and in response decided to be stupid and down the entire glass. He heard Shawn scowl, his fingers had dug into the cotton throw on the table in his irritation. Paul poured himself another glass. He looked directly at Shawn.

"Now you're being stupid," Shawn growled.

Paul, was just about to perform the same trick when suddenly Shawn dived out of his chair and grabbed the glass. The red liquid slopped about in its glass container, some of it spilling onto the floor and Paul's shirt. Shawn put the glass back on the table.

"Shawn, can I have my glass back please?" It was the nicest way he could say it without using any colourful adjectives.

"You're slurring, man. If you have any more I'm gonna have to carry you back,"

"Fuck off!"

Shawn glanced at Paul. If he had not have known Paul, he may have taken a step back or backed down at that very second. The larger man stood up from his seat and stepped closer to Shawn. He got on his knees, pointed one finger at Shawn's nose and growled:

"How many times did I fucking carry you out of clubs? How many times did I tell you, no more Shawn? How many people have I had to punch because you were being a mouthy little shit? I'm enjoying myself. I'm amongst good company, eating fine food and even finer wine so don't get all high and mighty with me!"

Shawn stood up. The room was quiet. Shawn made a move to move but Paul grabbed him by his trouser leg.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. You had a problem, I know..."

"Get off of me," Shawn growled.

"What's the matter with you, Shawn?" Paul stumbled up to his feet and placed his hands on Shawn's shoulders. "You've been off all evening."

"Get the fuck off me," Shawn growled.

"Not until you tell me what's with you?"

Shawn pushed Paul in the chest. He stepped back, his hands moving from Shawn's shoulders but there was not a whole lot of power in it. Shawn was out of shape and out of practice, Paul was still like a ton of bricks in comparison.

"It was a great evening until you decided to get pissed and flirt with Maureen," Shawn snapped.

"What? She's well over sixty!" Paul bellowed.

"Any bit of attention though, right?" Shawn snarled. "For god's sake it's embarrassing"

"My god... you _really _are that insecure that you think I'm willing to jump into bed with a woman well into her sixties with a disabled son? Even with a few drinks inside of me Shawn, I am not that kind of person! I..." he shook his head, fury taking over. "Do you think I do this on the road? Do you think I drink on the road, flirt with a diva and then shamelessly fuck her? Then call you in the morning like... oh fuck you Shawn. I'm not defending this because you're full of shit."

"Oh here we go. I'm Paul, I take no shit from nobody because I'm a big man," Shawn pointed his finger at Paul. "Screw you. How dare you drag up my past, my problems with alcohol to justify your point. Call me out on being jealous but don't you dare call me out on a mistake I fixed over ten years ago!"

"Shawn..."

"Oh hang on. I didn't fix it properly did I? Because we all know how much you respect my belief in Christianity. You won't even come with me on Sunday and instead would rather point out every little thing you can to make me feel bad,"

"Are we going there?" Paul snarled. "Are we going there really? You said yourself you're the oddball in the Church because you take a bit of cock"

"Don't put it like that you, ass!" Shawn pushed Paul again.

"Don't push me," Paul snarled. He pushed Shawn back who stumbled backwards.

Shawn narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth and with as much power as he could at that moment tried to push Paul again. Both his palms dug into Paul's chest but the other man stood firm, putting all of his weight into his feet. Shawn could not budge him. Paul took the opportunity and snapped up both of Shawn's wrists in a bear like grip. Shawn tried to pull away but the hold was too hard.

"Get off me." Shawn growled, his eyes filling with tears.

"Not until you've calmed down enough that I know you're not going to try that again," Paul hissed.

"Just get the fuck off of me so I can get out of here," Shawn tried to snatch back his wrists but Paul just pulled him closer towards him. Nose to nose, Paul's eyes darkened and his nose twitched. Shawn could smell the wine on his breath and skin.

"She's sixty, Shawn. Sixty. I wasn't flirting, I was playing. Okay? Stop this fucking jealously thing and just keep out of my fucking way the rest of the evening. It was your idea to come here and y'know what," He nodded at the wine, "I will drink as much as I fucking want because my personality isn't as addictive as yours."

"That's not fair, Paul," Shawn whimpered, giving in at last to his tears.

"Neither are all these baseless accusations," Paul snapped, his own voice breaking. "What have I ever done for you to suddenly start acting this way? What have I done that has made you terrified that I'm going to fuck anything that offers me a bit of attention? What? What have I done?!"

"Let go off me," Shawn tried again.

"Please just talk to me!" Paul cried.

"Boys... I think you should leave," A solemn voice from the door said. Both men turned to face the stern mother, her eyes tired. It was only now they could hear a fully grown man crying in the background. "Now."

"Maureen," Paul let go off Shawn's wrists and took a step closer. "I'm so sorry. This-"

"Paul... just go," She looked at Shawn. "Both of you."

Paul, bowed his head and followed the elderly woman through the house. Upstairs he could hear Kyle more clearly now, devastated that his evening had turned so sour because of Shawn and himself. He said nothing, neither did Shawn as he followed Paul in tow.

Maureen opened the door and the two passed through.

"Maureen we genuinely are really sorry," Paul tried again. Shawn nodded his head, his eyes transfixed on his boots to hide the tear stains from the woman.

"Go on your vacation tomorrow and for the love of god remember what made you both fall in love," with that she slammed the door. The door bolted shut.

Once again, both men stood on the doormat outside of the old ranch house. Neither of them said anything. They did not have to. The crying was just as loud as it was inside the house. Walls were banged and soon enough Maureen was shouting from within for order. Paul heard his husband snivel next to him. He could feel his own eyes stinging for their release but now was not the time or place. Not in front of Shawn anyway, not now outside of this house whilst Kyle and Maureen dealt with the brunt of their actions.

He should have said something. He should have put his hand on Shawn's shoulder and told him it was a new day tomorrow. He should have done that but he could not. Not now. Paul turned on his heel and walked away from the ranch house. He never looked back to see if Shawn had followed.

* * *

Paul had been sat on his own for twenty minutes until Shawn slunk in through the front door. His shoulders were slumped and his hat pulled down over his eyes. Paul looked up from his position on the sofa, met eyes with Shawn and then looked back at the television set.

"I thought you'd have gone to bed..." Shawn said softly. His voice shook slightly as he spoke, he was unsure if this was the right time to open his mouth to Paul considering he had been told to stay out of his way for the rest of the evening.

"No," Paul muttered. He would not have gone to bed until Shawn had come back anyway. Despite how mad he was there was no way he would have been able to sleep. Not without knowing if Shawn had found his way home from the neighbour's house.

"Okay... can you lock up?" He asked. He toyed with the key he had pulled out of his pocket.

"Yes," He muttered again.

Shawn placed the key on the small table near the front door. He looked back at Paul who stared at the television set. It looked to be some kind of documentary on bees but he could not be sure. There was no point asking; Paul was not watching it either. It was just a distraction and an excuse not to look at Shawn. Shawn stood at the door, his eyes looming over at the television set.

"Paul-"

"Shawn, leave it." Paul's hollow words returned. Shawn felt himself flinch, there were no emotion in his lover's words. No anger. No irritation. Just empty words. Shawn bit his bottom lip.

"But Paul,"

"Shawn," he took a deep breath, "Please babe, just shut up and go to bed."

Shawn opened his mouth to speak but closed it again after a little more thought. He nodded his head and was thankful for the small gesture of pet names. Not all was lost, he had not ruined it completely. He walked to the bottom of the stairs and was about to go up but suddenly stopped. He turned around.

"I'm sorry. I was out of line. Good night," he went upstairs. Paul said nothing in return.


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time since moving into this house it was not the crow that woke Paul. It was the horrendous kink in his neck and the tightness that embroiled his back. He groaned and opened his eyes and saw the blurry outline of the lit television. He made a sudden movement but regretted it the second his head throbbed. The red wine, he thought pathetically. It always had a way of giving him a headache. He turned the television off at the remote control.

He looked at the watch. Shit, it was six o'clock. They were supposed to be in the car at half six. That was if of course Shawn still wanted to give their vacation a go. Paul rubbed his head, he prayed that if there was a god he would tell Shawn that Paul had no intention of sleeping downstairs. It was the wine. Sure enough, he could hear the pitter patter of Shawn's bare feet coming down the stairs.

Paul lifted himself out of the chair. He groaned again, his hand pressed against his temple. Shawn frowned and shook his head. He didn't say it but Paul knew he was thinking it. He had that look of concern obviously conflicting with his smug face.

"It's not a hangover," Paul groaned. "Red wine just gives me a headache."

"Would you like something for your head?" Shawn asked. Of course. This morning was the treading on eggshells game.

Paul nodded. "Yeah, if you don't mind"

"I don't mind..." Shawn replied as he walked into the kitchen for his tablets. Paul took a deep breath and followed after him.

"Shawn, you don't need to do this," he said. Shawn looked bemused. "You don't need to play up to me. We'll talk about last night, we don't need to pretend that it didn't happen. That's why we keep arguing."

Shawn opened one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out a packet of paracetamol. He held them out to Paul. "I don't want to talk about it."

Paul took the box. "Not yet but I hope you come round at some point... we need to talk, Shawn."

"We both acted stupidly – its fine."

"Shawn..." Paul placed the box of tablets on the side and took both of Shawn's hands into his own. "Talking about it won't ruin our marriage. If we let it linger and build up to something more than last night, it will."

Paul watched as his lover flinch and the knot inside of his throat build. He looked away from Paul. He tried to focus on anything he could, anything inanimate to escape the truth. Paul rubbed his lovers hand with his thumbs, making small semi-circles over the soft skin. Shawn was tense, his eyes getting red and watery. It all began to make a bit more sense to Paul now. Shawn's reaction had said a lot more than his big mouth could have.

"Our marriage isn't broken Shawn, not yet," Shawn closed his eyes, his face still in another direction so there was no chance he would have to look at Paul. "Shawn, we can't keep avoiding it. Shawn, look at me."

Shawn looked at him. The tears ran freely down his cheeks but he didn't make a noise; he was doing a good job of containing himself for Shawn.

"Our marriage is not broken. Okay?" Shawn nodded his head in response. "But Shawn, our marriage is in trouble. If we don't sit and talk about everything at some point soon it will be. Do you understand? I know you don't want this to end and I can promise you I don't want it to end even more. But I need you at some point to just sit down with me and tell me what is on your mind."

"When did it go so wrong, Paul?" Shawn asked at last having just found his voice. "We never used to fight like we did last night. When did it go wrong?"

"I think it's a gradual build-up of things, Shawn," he whispered. "I don't think there's a specific time or place. But...," he pushed Shawn's hair out of his tear covered face, "It's okay. We know there's a problem and now we just need to work together to fix it."

"In two weeks?" Shawn cried, "How are we going to solve this in two weeks?"

Paul sucked in his bottom lip and could not find an answer for his partner. He wanted to reassure Shawn that two weeks was plenty of time. He wanted to confirm that this could all be dealt through with a grown-up conversation. He wanted to all of that before he embraced his lover and brushed his hair back away from his face. He wanted to, but he could not. He could not guarantee their marriage could be salvaged in two weeks.

But he would try his damn hardest to make sure it was. Paul opened his arms. He smiled, his grin almost goofy and lopsided. Shawn wiped a tear away from his eye using the back of his hand and smiled tenuously. He stepped forward and Paul closed his arms around.

"Do you think we should apologise to Maureen before we leave? Maybe leave a note or something under her door?" Shawn asked. Paul rubbed his hands up and down the smaller frame of his lover as he contemplated the question. Despite himself, he had enjoyed his evening with the old bat and her son was a breath of fresh air. It had just turned sour through no fault of her own.

"Don't you have a number for her or something? One of us could call her later on in the morning when we're on the road," As he ran his hands over Shawn's bare skin one thing became suddenly apparent. Although still lean, his husband had put on a little bit of weight. Paul pushed his hands into Shawn's waist. There was definitely a bit more pudding on.

"What are you doing?" Shawn asked.

"Huh?" Shawn lifted his chin from the curve in Paul's shoulder. His eyes did their best to look to his right, to see what Paul was doing with his hands. Caressing had never turned into prodding before; at least not in this way anyway.

"What? Is there-"

"I like this little bit extra," Paul said humorously as he pinched Shawn's side softly. Shawn squirm in his arms.

"Hey! Leave my muffins alone," Said Shawn in his gruff voice. Paul pushed his nose against Shawn's. A grin broke across his face.

"No, share the muffins Shawn," he pinched again. Shawn fidgeted, his legs buckling. "I forgot muffins were ticklish."

"I mean it Paul... I mean it! You leave my muffins alone or I'll-"

"Or you'll want?" Paul said innocently purposely interrupting whatever tirade Shawn was going to sprout. The Showstopper, as some called him, tried to step out of the hold but both of Paul's arms wrapped around his back kept him locked in. A fresh look of determination washed across Shawn's face and the older man tried to get to his knees. Paul followed suite.

"Oh no you don't. You're not working out of this, puppy fat boy," Paul squeezed Shawn's side and then with his other hand, squeezed the other. Shawn buckled from left to right, he threw his head back. "You never used to be this ticklish,"

Paul said with a purr. Paul released Shawn from his arms but did not give him much time to manure. He leaned forward, forcing Shawn backwards and off his knees until he laid flat on his back on the ground. Paul, either leg either side of his lover, lent in and laid a deep kiss against Shawn's pouted lips.

The kiss had started slow with Paul's thick, stubble rubbing against Shawn's as their mouths pressed against each other. Their lips smacked together and their saliva mixed together and moistened each other's lips. Shawn moaned softly into Paul's mouth when it opened and Shawn thrust his tongue in. His hands meanwhile had entwined themselves in Paul's hair. Their tongues danced, their bodies rubbing against each other and the noises they made being the only sound in the room.

Paul broke the kiss for air. A thin, trial of saliva hung in mid-air between Shawn and Paul's mouth.

"You never answered my question," Paul said at long last quite breathless from his invasion.

Shawn, still buzzing from the kiss, furrowed his brow and tipped his head. "What question?"

"The number," Paul pecked Shawn's lips. "Pay attention."

"What number?" Shawn croaked.

"Maureen's number!" Paul cried theatrically before he planted another peck on Shawn's lips. "You really do need to keep up. You're growing senile in your old age."

"Hey!" Shawn, once again, was silenced by another kiss. After a few seconds of what they had done previously, Paul pulled away once again and looked at the clock. They should have been on the road five minutes ago.

"Great. Shawn, grab the bags and I'll make sure the house is secure. I'll drive," Paul made a move to get up but was forced back down by his hair. Shawn smirked, his glower darkening his face. Paul was pulled in for another kiss. "C'mon Shawn," Paul muttered into his husband's lips.

"Few more minutes," Shawn whined as he tried to inch in for another passionate kiss.

"If I give you a few more minutes we'll both need fifteen," Paul chuckled. Shawn was hell-bent on getting his way as the fingers within Paul's hair curled around his blonde strands. "No. No make-up time. We need to get on the road,"

"Since when do you say no to make-up time?" Shawn purred.

It was a valid question. A valid question should always be dignified to get an answer that was something his mother had always said to him. Although in this case, his mother would be shooing Paul out of the door because of his excessive poor time keeping. Paul pushed his finger against the pointed tip of Shawn's nose.

"We're going on vacation. You'll have plenty of make-up time after we've hit the road," Paul pried Shawn's fingers from his hair and stood up from his original position on the floor. Shawn did not move, he just stared up at Paul with that cocky smile and a glint in his eye. "Don't make me carry you to the car," Paul grumbled.

"You're adorable when you try to be serious," Shawn chided. Paul twitched his nose, pushed his shoulders back and stood up to his full height. He scowled at his lover as he pointed upstairs.

"I thought make-up time was out of the question, Hunter?" Paul was about to retort with something snarky but Shawn pushed his legs out in front of him, pulled them back in and jumped up to his feet like he had done in so many of his matches. He pointed up the stairs and followed his finger up the stairs, his grin en all.

"And don't forgot the bags! That includes mine, Shawn!" Paul yelled up. And thus that was how most of that arguments dissolved. A few smiles, a joke and sometimes sex. With this trip, Paul hoped everyday would be a make-up day.

* * *

"Whaddya mean you won't tell me where we're going? Paul, how am I going to navigate?!"

Shawn waved the large, A3 map he was holding up and down furiously from the passenger seat. Paul did his best not to look at him, even from the corner of his eye or the rear mirror, he tried to avoid looking at him altogether. Now would be another blow to the Heartbreak Kid's ego.

"Shawn..." Paul said softly, "Remember when I told you this truck had all the latest features?"

"Yeah... you mean the cigarette lighter?" Shawn pointed to the little device tucked away near the stereo. "What about it?"

"Siri,"

"Who's Siri?" Shawn interrupted.

"What? Shut up man, don't distract him." Paul scolded. Shawn pulled an odd face but sat further back in his seat. His fingers toyed curiously at the map. "Siri, bring up map."

"Okay, Paul" A computerised voice said out of nowhere. Shawn, jumped up from his seat, or at least how much his seatbelt would let him. His eyes were wide as his eyes flashed around the car.

"Oh my god you've actually got a KIT! Why'd you name him Siri though? Hi Siri!" Shawn tapped the front of the dashboard and the once black interior before him suddenly lit up into a picture of satellite navigation. For a second, Shawn ooed.

"At the end of the road turn-" Siri said just before Shawn held his map up furiously.

"You're going to trust this guy with the directions!?" He barked.

"Yeah well..." Paul shrugged his shoulders, "He's not taken me the wrong way before."

"I've done it twice! Twice in five years of marriage and the rest of years being your friend," Shawn crossed his arms over his torso like a stroppy child. "Before that I was your boyfriend... you never trusted me with directions? This guy has no soul, don't trust him. You ever seen that film? Dave? I can't do that Dave. Dave. Dave."

"Shawn!" Shawn shut his trap. "It's a surprise for you and I don't want to ruin it. Besides, now your beautiful voice can do something other than give me directions"

"Like sing?" Paul's eyes snapped at the grinning HBK. No, that was not what he had in mind.

"No no not sing. We can talk," Paul added.

"Can we talk in song format?" Shawn asked.

This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

The drive to the airport had gone extremely well. Neither man had snapped, argued or exchanged insults. They had talked briefly in the car, that was when Shawn had stopped his Louis Armstrong impression, and the conversations had been good. They had chatted about work mostly. Paul's new responsibilities and who he was considering pushing.

They had even sat in the airport in good spirits. Work had been the main topic of conversation yet again, not that Paul minded. He had so much on his chest which he needed to get off. Shawn had been so wrapped up in talking about signature moves and feuds to work up to he had completely missed their call. It was Paul, who had to grab the bags and a still rambling Shawn by his wrist and onto the plane.

"Y'know, Brock has some technique and he's fast for a guy as big as he is," Shawn shoved another boiled sweet in his mouth after take-off. "Make him a heel. Pit him against Cena and have Cena lose."

Paul glanced at Shawn from his seat at the window and nodded his head. Take-off was the worst part of the flight for him and his ears were popping like crazy.

"Then once Cena loses you'll have everyone like, oh my god no! Not Cena, he likes wins every match-"

Shawn, sweet in mouth and drool edging to escape the corner of his mouth, moved his hands with such animation Paul was surprised the businessman in the seat next to him had not been swatted on the nose. Last minute trip, last minute seats in coach. Little leg room, no TV and no champagne to take the edge of the take-off. All they had was hard boiled mints which Shawn ate like candy.

Paul nodded his head for the second time. The ground below him was fading from view as the plane levelled out above the clouds. The seatbelt light turned off. Paul made no movement to remove his despite the clicks from everybody else on the plane, including Shawn. Shawn turned a little more in his seat towards Paul. Paul could see the reflection in the plane window how relieved the gentleman looked.

"Daniel Bryan could be a good babyface. I think you should team him up with someone. Who is underused? You don't use Kane that much anymore. Yeah, Paul I think-"

Paul shifted in his seat and lazily looked at Shawn. The excitement the other man showed practically sprang from his pores. Shawn looked like he was trying to control himself _not _to bounce in his seat. Paul laid his hand over Shawn's.

"They're all great ideas babe but I've already decided on the direction of next month." He tapped his lovers hand with a smile. "I told you this in the car."

"But what about the month after? You-you've not thought of that," Shawn replied.

"I'll think about your ideas. I promise."

"My Brock Lesnar one?" Shawn asked.

"Even your Brock Lesnar one. Now, can we stop talking about _my_ work?"

"Oh... okay man. Sorry..."

Shawn turned back in his seat and faced the chair directly in front of him. He looked wounded. His voice even resembled that of a man who had been wounded. Paul bit down against his back teeth but returned his head back so he could look out of the window. The flight should not have been too long, he had googled it as four hours at least.

The sweet within Shawn's mouth clanked against his teeth. Without a television this four hour flight was going to seem a lot longer. His hand was still on top of Shawn's. He tapped it again, Shawn looked over.

"Pass me a mint," he asked.

Shawn held out the bag and Paul's hand went in. "Have you err... ever considered retiring?" Shawn asked out of nowhere.

The hand he had placed in the sweet bag stopped its search. Paul felt his entire body freeze. Had he ever considered retiring? He ran the question through a mind not once but twice. Shawn, who had felt the air thicken, easily slid his hand out from under the bigger man's own.

Paul took a sweet from the bag and held it in his hand. His eyes met Shawn's.

"Why?" A cautious Paul asked.

Shawn bit into the sweet and the crunch seemed much louder than it should have been or actually was. He chewed, nulling over the sweet taste of mint.

"Why?" Paul asked again, this time a bit more forceful.

"I was just wondering," Shawn said with a shrug. "I mean, you're becoming one of the older guys."

"But I can still do my job. Mark's still going and he's older than you." Paul pointed out. Shawn took another sweet for himself and popped it into his mouth. "Besides, I'm on the board now. So I can retire at seventy or something really as I won't be needing to wrestle."

"Oh..." Shawn said around the sweet. "Is that what you want?"

"I want to keep working, yeah..." Paul replied unsure as to where this was going. Another argument? Was this one of those cliché arguments where the woman demands the man take more time off? Where she claims neglect and wants a bit of attention? Shawn had always been a bit of a diva and he had jokingly referred to him as his wife but – surely Shawn was not going to hold work against him. He knew how much Shawn had loved his work and would not want Paul to pack it in.

"Why?" Paul asked again.

"No reason. We're just talking about _your _work and I'm just... trying to talk to you."

There was silence between them.

"There's more to my job than you understand. I don't write any storylines Shawn. I spot talent, look at the financial reports and just... I do my bit. I'm on the exec."

More silence. Paul regretted saying anything at all now. Finally, Shawn turned to him,

"I am a simple man, you hit it right on the head. I don't wear suits, I don't look at sheets of paper with figures written on them and I don't have cars that know my name and give me directions to places-"

Paul opened his mouth to correct Shawn and point out it was in fact his I-Phone and not the car that had the VI but Shawn held up his hand.

"Let me finish. I ain't that. I'm a simple Texan who'd much rather hunt deer and I'd choose church any day over one of your _executive meetings._ But there's one thing I've always been good at Paul. I've always been one of the best damn wrestlers to step foot into that ring and don't you ever forget it."

Shawn looked away from his lower and back to the seat in front of him. Paul went back to his window.

They never said another word.


	5. Chapter 5

Canada.  
Ontario Canada was the wonderful place his husband had wanted to bring him? Shawn wrapped his arms around his body and shivered as the cold, Canadian air attacked his flimsy American arms. It was always cold in this country. If he had known their vacation would have been somewhere cold then Shawn would have packed more sweaters and less vests.

Paul stood beside Shawn, two bags in each hand as he tried to hail down a cab. Shawn was holding his gun bag and the two hand luggage items they had been able to take on-board the flight. Neither man had spoken to each other since the little bust up. Shawn had spent the rest of the flight eating sweets whilst Paul took a nap with his head against the window.

They had not argued or fallen out. Not yet. It had been a simple step of, I put my foot in my mouth and now there's glass rather than eggshells on the floor. Paul hoped the accommodation would perk Shawn up a little when they go there. It was Shawn all over.

"A big guy like me, I can't believe the first two didn't stop." Paul said playfully eager to lighten the mood. He opened the door for Shawn. Wordlessly, the Texan climbed in with the luggage and Paul got in afterwards.

"Where to?"

"Petawawa," Paul said. A grin spread across his when Shawn suddenly clicked.

"You haven't done what I think you have..."

"What do you think I've done?" Was the playful reply.

"This is going to murder my back..." Shawn said with so little enthusiasm he could have been compared to a balloon deflating. Now was the chance to lay the foundation for some make-up. Paul scooted closer to Shawn and wrapped a huge arm around his shoulders.

"You'll be fine. We'll work together on the rapids and have the best adventure we've ever had," Shawn did not look too impressed. "Besides, if your back begins to play up I can do that massage you like. You said that always helps."

It did always help.

"Have I mentioned it has a very large bath? If your back plays up just imagine jumping into a beautiful, warm bathtub filled with bubbles and that sweet smell of lavender radiating from the warm water. Just imagine my fingers, pressing into your back. Kneading it like it was dough. Just think on that."

With the final word, Paul gently squeezed Shawn's shoulder in reassurance. Shawn looked up at him. Smug and satisfied, Paul must have truly believed he had said the sexiest thing ever. All he had to be doing now was chewing gum to complete the look.

"You want to knead me like dough?" Shawn repeated.

"The baths big enough for one more," Paul purred.

"You want to knead me like dough?" Shawn asked once again.

"When we get out we'll be filthier than when went got in," Paul whispered.

"You want to knead me like dough?"

"For fucks sake Shawn!" Paul cried almost giving the taxi driver a heart attack.

* * *

Nothing could go wrong here.

Paul had taken all of the bags and ordered Shawn to wait outside of the reception. The bags had been taken to their room whilst Paul had finished up the forms and sorted out the deposit on the hotel room. Right, now was the time to see if Paul had hit the mark when it came to Shawn's taste.

"Shawn," Paul said as he exited the hotel reception. Shawn sat on one of the large rocks that vertically aligned themselves from the reception double door to the walking path. Huge trees seemed to stand up tall wherever you walked, almost as if they had just popped up wherever they felt like it because the Canadians would just smile and toodle on about their day. Confrontation was too much effort for these little guys; Paul thought with a smirk noting his stereotyping and judgemental way.

In the distance they could hear the rapids of the river smacking up against the bank not too far from their complex. It was very quiet, the wrong time of year for families as the summer holidays had just finished.

Paul stood behind Shawn and without a word, pulled a black tie he had shoved into his pocket inside of the reception, and wrapped it around Shawn's eyes. The Texan jumped up from his rock, taken aback by the sudden gesture but the two, large hands that laid on his shoulders were as familiar as the aftershave Paul wore.

"A little warning next time?" A tense Shawn Michaels told his partner.

"Don't make me walk you into a wall, sexy boy" Paul replied. He pushed forward, urging Shawn to pick up his feet and get a leg out. Shawn, awkward and with his arms out full length in front of him, took small slow steps forward in the direction Hunter urged.

"For god's sake Shawn I could carry you faster than this," Hunter grumbled. The two had barely moved from the reception and all Shawn had done was manage to walk forward. For someone who was so reckless when it came to jumping around and chasing bears in the woods, he sure did act badly when he was out of his comfort zone. True to his word, Paul grabbed Shawn by his shoulder and heaved him up and onto his back like a fireman.

"For fucks sake what are you doing!?" Shawn cried. He had not seen it coming and for all he knew he was on the edge of a river. He clung to the solid back like a terrified cat. "Can I take the blindfold off?"

"The reason I'm carrying your ass is because I want you keep it on."

"What if somebody sees us? They're going to think-"

"We're incredibly horny or I'm a kidnapper. I'm fine with either of those descriptions," Paul said as he walked onwards towards their room much faster than Shawn would have done on foot.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood!" Shawn said through a loud laugh. Paul snorted, at least Shawn was trying to see the funny side of this.

They came to a stop. Shawn poked his head up desperate to see what was worth all of this aggravation. He felt his human vehicle move a few more steps. It bent, Shawn, who still clung on like a cat almost swore for the lack of warning. A lock clicked. Footsteps became hollow. They were on wood.

"Now can I take this stupid thing off?" Shawn mumbled.

"Don't make me put it round your mouth," Paul scolded. He knelt down a little and allowed Shawn to scamper off his back. "Right. Now, I just know this is you. It screams you."

"Shag carpets and love seats?" Shawn said through a grin.

"Easy HBK, anybody would think you have a thing for fireman."

Paul pulled the tie loose from Shawn's eyes before he whipped it away.

It was a cabin. It looked like a cabin. A large, suite of a log cabin. They stood in the main entrance which doubled as what Shawn gathered was the sitting area. On his left hand-side was a huge, stone fire place which burned warmly heating the entire room. In front of the fireplace was a rug. It was an animal skin, either an elk or a wolf that much was certain. It was a light brown and blended in nicely with the oak flooring below their feet.

Two wooden framed sofas with huge, plush cushions were placed in front of the fireplace. There was no TV. Just a small bookshelf and empty wooden rack beside that. Decorated on the walls were rugs, furs and stereotypical prizes of hunters. Wolf, deer, buffalo, moose? Shawn squinted his eyes. He had never seen a moose before and now he was going to be living with one.

A coffee table was nestled over the animal skin rug. Monopoly? Shawn smirked, well he was sold! Nothing said escape like a game of Monopoly.

Shawn had not said a word since the blindfold had been removed. Paul wrapped his arms around Shawn's middle and rested his chin against Shawn's hair. The other man leaned back into the embrace.

"Paul... I don't know what to say."

"You should be saying," Paul slid his chin through Shawn's hair until he was close enough to his ear to whisper, "Take me to that bath you gorgeous hunk of man"

"I should but y'see the problem is, my back doesn't quite hurt enough yet,"

"In that case we best get you to the bedroom first and then make our way over to the bathroom,"

They both smirked between each other. The beginning of their 'adventure'.


	6. Chapter 6

They had missed the dinner service laid out by the resort, in fact they had missed most of the day. Paul groaned softly, his cheek pressed firmly into his pillow and the smelly wet patch that had leaked from his mouth. He could not remember falling asleep but obviously he had.

He opened his eyes as little as he could but still enough so he could see the bedside clock. The green, flashing digits read 02:21. What? Paul pushed himself into a sit up position and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It had only had 16:18 when he had last looked at it.

Paul felt the bed shift underneath his weight. A groan that was not his own echoed through the darkness. He looked down at Shawn, who had both arms wrapped around his pillow and the side of his face embedded in it. He rolled onto his stomach, grunting through a snore.

"And you complain that _I _snore?" Paul whispered under his breath. Shawn 'gruffed' like some kind of overweight dog, wrapped his arms tighter around the pillow and then settled down after a deep breath. His moderate sounding snores continued. Moderate snoring, only because after you've been on the road with big guys like Paul Wright, you know what snoring could sound like. Paul was just grateful Shawn was more of a fidget than a snorer.

Paul rubbed at his eyes once again before he scooted to the edge of the bed. He doubted very much he would be able to sleep again after the eight hour nap. You should have known better; Paul thought to himself. You're always tired after that level of exercise.

Picking up his robe from the floor, Paul went back into the sitting area of the cabin. As he walked through, he slipped his arms through the garment. The log fire flickered, still burning away as it had done when the two men had first entered the cabin. How many logs had they thrown onto the fire? Paul sat on the animal rug. In the heat of the moment, Paul had lost count. They were too enraptured by the novelty of fornicating on the elk skin rug in front of the fire. Shawn had confirmed the animal as soon as he had sat on it.

Paul stared into the fireplace as he fiddled with the rope around his robe. His second day of the fourteen was finished and although Shawn and he had enjoyed their evening, the problem itself still remained. Paul sat back on his hands and stretched out his legs heating his toes from the fires warmth. They had established there was trust issues and loneliness when Paul was away at work but that was it. The loneliness could have been triggered for Shawn _because _of the trust issues the older man had.

When had marriage gotten so complicated? He remembered when they tied the knot. Paul had insisted it be a quiet affair and Shawn had no issue with that. Although having been in a relationship for many years prior to their marriage, their relationship was not the main gossip of the locker room. There were rumours about their sexualities, especially on Shawn's part considering his flamboyant costumes, but nobody quite got passed joking about it. In that time, it had been Shawn who had made the first move.

Paul smiled. Shawn poured with confidence. He'd take a handful of prescription pills, rattle for a few seconds and then he was Shawn Michaels. Cocky, arrogant, smarmy and above all flirtatious. At first Paul had been wary, he had wanted to join the clique but not at a price. Shawn had been determined though.

After every match Shawn was there. Slapping at gum, sunglasses on and a huge grin on his face constantly rattling away. Shawn had a problem but at this point in their relationship, they were trying to become friends. Begrudgingly, still to this day, Paul regretted not interfering sooner but thankful he waited for the right moment. When Shawn had finally put down his guard and let Paul see who he really was, Paul had swooped in with talons open and ready.

Shawn was a nervous kid with very little confidence and bloody fingers nails bitten down to the cuticles. In the ring, bars and anywhere else had an audience: he was so jacked up on prescription pills and whatever else he took he became the arrogant character he had created. When he and Paul were alone at night, TV casting a soft glow in a dark room upon them, Shawn went into himself. He'd sit on the sofa chewing on his fingernails, asking Paul why people didn't like him. Why a young, go-getter like Paul liked him when there were so many other guys he could have hung with.

Paul ran his fingers through his hair as he reminisced. Shawn had tackled many demons in his life but he had never been able to truly conquer his anxiety. Not completely.

"There's a distinct lack of loud snoring, a bad smell and a large area of body mass missing from the bed."

Paul broke away from his thoughts and glanced over his shoulder towards the door. He smiled at the sight of Shawn in the doorway with the bed covers wrapped around his lower body to cover his dignity. The sweatpants must have been thrown further than usual.

"When you describe me so lovingly I can't imagine why I wouldn't want to join you in bed."

"You get used to all three. Not so much the bad smell but I think you do that intentionally once we get in bed because it pisses me off," Shawn looked to the fire and then to Paul. "Everything all right?"

"We went to bed early so now I'm not tired. It's no biggie," Paul sat up from his spot on the fur skin rug. He pushed his shoulders back and cracked his back.

"So you decided to sit quietly in front of the fire? That's very cute and unlike you."

"I have a sensitive side y'know!" Paul replied with a mockingly offended tone. Shawn pulled the bed sheets up and a bit more firmly in place before he padded over to Paul.

"Want some company or is this a one man show?" Shawn sat down on the floor and without word Paul followed him down. Paul resumed his previous position, sat on his backside with his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands pushed behind him supporting his upper body. Shawn sat cross-legged, the sheet provided more effective cover.

"I was just sat here thinking."

"Oh god... that's never a good sign." Shawn said. Paul narrowed his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip. He raised his hand firmly in the air which in turn made Shawn raise his mid-way. "I'm sorry please continue oh good sir."

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted; I was just sat here thinking about everything."

"Everything?" Shawn repeated.

"Yeah well mostly us. You. Our wedding day and shit..."

"I wouldn't list our wedding day in a phrase that had the word 'shit' anywhere near it but go on," Shawn grinned. "You've got my attention. You were thinking how smooth and sexy I was when I got on one knee and asked you to be my civil partner?"

Paul smiled. "No actually, I was thinking of how much you've changed since our 'civil partnership'. I mean... even when we were married you had problems with substances."

Shawn furrowed his brow. "I was a mess back then," Shawn admitted.

"You were a roller-coaster of emotions. One minute you'd be sat there... chewing on your fingers until they bled whimpering about something Bret Hart had said in the locker room. Then I'd go to fetch you some water, come back and you'd be rattling. A handful of whatever the fuck it was... then you became this stranger. This loud, obnoxious little shit.

You were two extremes of a coin. Painfully introverted and then annoyingly extroverted. It was not until you kicked the drugs I finally met the real you."

Shawn blinked once and then twice.

"You married me when I was the two coins... what are you saying?" He looked down, "That I'm not the same person you married since I found Christ? Am I not the same man you fell in love with?"

"No. No no no no I did not mean it like that. I just meant, you've come so far. For the better. It just makes you sit back and look at things from a different angle."

"I guess? We had some laughs I suppose... like the time I met your folks," Paul sat back even further and let out a hearty laugh. How could he have forgotten that awkward moment in his life?

"They always knew I had funny taste after I took Chyna home to meet them," Paul wiped a tear from his eye. "They said, 'she's a big beefy' in a very disapproving parent way. Then a few years later, I introduced _you_. They acknowledged my fetish for muscle had toned down but I was getting further away from wife material."

Shawn lifted up his arms and flexed his muscles as if trying to prove to Paul and his parents who were thousands of miles of away: he had muscles! They just weren't as beefy as Paul's or Chyna's.

"You could have shaved your stubble that day, Shawn. We might have gotten away with them thinking you were a bird."

"Then we would have answered the awkward questions when your mom asks, 'where's my grandkid?'" Shawn said with a small laugh.

"Yeah... she really wanted a granddaughter..."

"So did mine. She wanted to buy her those frilly dresses and whatnot. My mum wanted me to be a little girl,"

"That explains the frocks you hide in the wardrobe."

"They're not mine," Shawn instantly sat up on his heels. "They're not mine!"

Paul smirked. "Well they're not mine."

"I'm holding them for a friend." Shawn said defensively.

Paul shrugged his shoulders. "It's not for me to judge what you do when I'm away from home, Shawn. As long as you don't wear it for those Jehovah Witnesses then it's fine."

"Rumbled!" Shawn threw his arms up in mock exasperation. "Now who will I wear my beautiful dresses for if not the Jehovah Witnesses?"

Paul poked Shawn in the ribs. He jumped slightly, falling back onto his backside.

"What about Mr Levesque-Hickenbottom?"

"I always knew you had a weird kink," Shawn grinned.

"Says _you_," Paul crawled towards Shawn and pushed him onto his back. "On the rug? I know you're an avid hunter and everything but on the rug? Several times?"

Shawn blushed. "I didn't hear you complain. It was you who wanted the fire burning and the lights off."

"I wanted to make your choice a bit more sexy-romantic and bit less 'ooo elk – hey Paul I-"

"Stop right there," Shawn yelled mockingly into the air with an exaggerated voice. "We don't need to go into any more details. We all know I'm not the smoothest talker when it comes to... that"

"Talking dirty?" Paul purred as he looked down directly at Shawn pressed against the elk skin rug. His hair was out of its usual pony tail and hung around his face. The receding hairline was always more painfully obvious when Shawn let his hair down. If only Vince McMahon had given Shawn back that chunk of hair Bret Hart had pulled out. Shawn could have glued it back on. Paul ran his hand through the thinning, mass of hair. Between himself and Bret Hart, Shawn's hair had taken a battering through the years.

As he continued to look down, Paul could not help himself and planted a gentle kiss against Shawn's lips. Shawn placed his hands on Paul's back, bringing their bodies closing together and prolonging the kiss they shared. Paul shut his eyes, his mind whirling as they continued to kiss. He felt Shawn's leg against his leg, moving up and around. Paul smirked, believing there to be another round of joyous exercise only to be suddenly whirled round. Their lips separated. His back now on the elk rug, he opened his eyes and looked up at the Heartbreak Kid

"How's the view up there?" Paul asked casually.

"Could be better I suppose," Shawn nuzzled Paul's neck and placed gentle kisses along his jawline. The larger man moaned softly, his hands embedding themselves within the thinning hair of his lover. "Paul, can I ask you something?"

"You do normally," Paul replied too interested in the attention his neck was receiving.

"You're not going to flip out? Or start an argument?" Paul opened his eyes and gingerly pulled his neck as best he could away from Shawn's lips. He knew Shawn too well to know when he was buttering Paul up. A question or favour very often went Shawn's way if there were kisses or anything else involved.

"What do you want to ask me?" He asked in a serious tone. Shawn sat back on Paul's lap and Paul sat up. They faced each other. Shawn looked almost embarrassed.

"I want to touch on something you said earlier, about your mother."

"My mother passed away happy that we were happy, if that's what this is." Paul's mother's passing has been a very delicate subject in the household. Paul had loved and gotten along with his mother but like most families, they did not always see eye-to-eye and with Paul constantly on the road; it put an even larger strain on their relationship.

"I'm glad to hear that but that's not what I want to ask," Shawn took a deep breath. "My mother and your mother both wanted the same thing and I suppose... even though your mother has passed, mine hasn't and I would like us to _consider _perhaps making their wish a reality."

Now Paul was confused. Consider what exactly? There was absolute silent between them whilst Paul went over the conversation that had taken place previously within his head. His eyes went wide, oh god had Shawn meant what he thought meant?

"Grandkids? What? Granddaughters? Are you implying what I think you are implying?"

Shawn swallowed. "What do you think I'm implying?"

"That you want children!?" Paul spluttered. Children? Him and Shawn? He could feel the colour running from his cheeks just at the sheer thought of it. "You want to have children? Now? With me? That's not possible."

"Not necessary. We could adopt or ask a woman to be our surrogate."

"That's not what I mean Shawn! Look," Paul grabbed Shawn's hands. "I love you and I would do anything for you, but children? You're talking about a lifelong commitment here babe. Besides, what do we know about raising children? How about I get you a puppy instead?"

Mark's suggestion seemed like a really good idea now. Apparently not to Shawn though. His eyes narrowed angrily and his usual blue eyes darkened. Despite the lazy eye wobbling about in his socket, Shawn looked intimidating.

"I can't believe you just patronised me like that. I don't want a puppy. This is not about having something cute to feed and cuddle when you're away."

"You said it right there Shawn. When I'm away. I'm away so much and it wouldn't be fair on the kid," Paul squeezed Shawn's hands. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to patronise you. I just feel at this moment in time, especially with us arguing more than usual, this is not the right time to have a child."

"So at some point _you would _like to have a child?" Shawn asked as his eyes softened to their normal selves.

Paul opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Well... I guess... it's something to think about in the future."

"Which means no," Shawn stated.

"I never-"

"My mother always used that bullshit politician answer whenever she said no to me and didn't want the agro I put up."

Smart woman; Paul thought helplessly to himself. He could not casually leave the situation and end the discussion as Shawn was sat on his lap. The chance of sneaking into another room or escaping to use the toilet was out of the question. Plus, if Paul had pushed Shawn off and moved away then he would have been accused of running from the situation. Paul took a deep breath.

"What about work, Shawn?"

"You could go part-time like Chris does,"

Paul felt his blood boil within his veins. How many times had he told Shawn that his job was much more than Shawn remembered it? How many times did he have to tell Shawn that he was on the executive and made decisions along with Vince and Shane? He could not simply just 'go part-time'. Paul took a deep breath, he had promised he would not explode or go into an argument. He had to keep this promise.

"Hon... My job is not _just _wrestling. I can't take part-time work like Chris because he can be written out for half of the year. I cannot be written out of board meetings, decisions and talent scouting."

"Plenty of guys in the business juggle family life and work. I don't understand why you have to be the exception," Shawn replied brazenly. Paul huffed almost maddened by Shawn's non-blasé reaction.

"I am trying really _really _hard _not _to argue with you. Please drop the attitude or we'll drop the conversation all together," Was Paul's hoarse reply through gritted teeth. He let go off Shawn's hands not wanting to crush them if he felt so irritated he felt the urge to squeeze something.

Shawn's mouth fell open and for the second time that evening. He narrowed his eyes darkly at his lover. "Don't talk to me like I'm ten years old, Paul. I mean it."

"I'll stop talking to you like a ten year old when you stop acting like a ten year old." Paul grumbled.

"I'm acting like a ten year old because I pointed out many people in our line of work have families?"

"_My_ line of work. Not yours. Mine." Paul stated.

Shawn's face went from its tan to red. His lips twitched and his lazy eye seemed to wander a bit more than usual. His fist clenched and Paul believed he could see it coming his way soon.

"If that fist comes anywhere near my face Shawn then I swear to god!" Paul growled.

"I am a hall of famer! I am considered one of the greatest athletes in the WWE you son-of-a-bitch. When people look back on us in twenty years' time they will remember me! You were just the lackey who grew up to become a sell-out. A corporate sell-out!" Shawn stepped off of Paul's lap and pointed his finger at Paul who remained on the floor. "Even when I was popping pills, Vince never tore up my contract. I was the main event! You, if it had been _you_ then he'd have thrown you out on your ass. I sold tickets naturally. You needed every fucking push and every fucking leverage to get where you are today."

Paul smirked. A cruel laugh escaped his mouth as the larger man lifted himself up off the floor. He tightened his robe, wrapping it around himself a little bit better as he snorted. Shawn frowned, his fists still clenched and ready.

"So that's it. Not only are you paranoid, insecure and terrified of being left on your own: You're also jealous. You're jealous of me aren't you Michael? You're jealous that Shawn Michaels, The Heartbreak Kid, The Showstopper, _Mr Wrestlemania!_ has fizzled out and yet here I am, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Triple H, The Game still going strong. That burns you doesn't it?

Shawn did not say anything. He stood before Paul, his shoulders pushed back and his face solemn and ready. A natural athlete in the ring Shawn was but a gifted fighter he was not. Paul would never have raised his fist to his partner but at this moment in time; Paul was confident that at some point Shawn would swing for him. They had never gone beyond pushing and this was a whole different territory.

"I promised you I wasn't going to flip out and I'm not going to. Just take a step back, calm down and think about why we are arguing. Are we arguing because I don't want to have kids? Or are we arguing because you don't want me to go back to work?"

Again, Shawn said nothing. He just stood there with the same expression on his face.

"Do you miss work?" Shawn flinched. Paul knew he was getting closer to solving this problem. "When we were on the road things were great, weren't they? We never argued and we spent every day with each other like two teenagers in love. But then it changed."

Paul took a steady yet cautious step forward towards Shawn.

"It caught up with you and you had to retire. I never realised before but that was a big change in our life, Shawn. You had to change, maybe I didn't realise it at first... maybe I didn't accommodate it. Maybe I should have changed with you,"

Paul placed his hand on Shawn's shoulder. Shawn did not react, he just stood there emotionless like he was in some kind of trance.

"I know Wrestling was your life and I can't imagine how it must feel to live in an empty house with nothing to do all day but sit around and think about your past. To wonder what I'm doing away from you when you're at your most miserable. Shawn... why don't you talk to me? Why have I had to put this story together? Am I right? If I'm not just tell me I'm wrong"

Shawn looked away. Paul's eyes softened at he looked on at his husband. The shell of a man he had travelled with during the 00s. He looked broken. Was this how Shawn would have looked like during the height of his career in the 90s without the pills? Paul squeezed Shawn's shoulder in reassurance.

"A child won't make me stay home Shawn and it would not be fair to bring one into this situation. Shawn... listen to me," He shook his partner. Their eyes met. Shawn's were glassy and tearful. "I love my job in the same way you loved it but you are the most important thing in my life so you need to talk to me Shawn. I need you to tell me if I'm right with my thinking"

A minute passed between them until Shawn at last opened his mouth and uttered,

"I hate being at home all day with nothing to do but eat, clean and hunt on the weekends when the guys aren't at work," Shawn dabbed his lips with his tongue. "I hate not being with you, not because I have trust issues but because I like being with you. It's why I asked you to marry me..."

"Shawn... there are trust issues here," Paul whispered. "You can talk to me about them"

Shawn closed his eyes and fought back the tears that burnt his eyelids. "I do wonder what you're doing. Being on the road all day, surrounded by so many beautiful people whilst your retired husband just sits around eating cookies and looking at old photographs. I mean... I'm hardly Shawn Michaels any more am I?" he looked at Paul. "I'm old, bald, I've got a googley eye and I can't do what I love, which brought us together in the first place, because like an old man in his retirement my back just ain't what it used to be.

So there you have it.  
I'm old, jealous, bitter and lonely. Is that what you wanted me to say, Paul? To admit I'm past my prime and just collecting dust in the hall of fame?" He paused. "I used to be great. I was better than great, Paul. I was one of the best there was. I've wrestled since I was nineteen, man. It ain't like I can do anything other than sign autographs."

"Shawn," Paul heard his own voice break. He sniffed. "Why didn't you mention this before? I don't think any one of those things you just described yourself as, not really. I had no idea you felt this way."

"Maybe if you came home more often...?" Shawn whispered.

Paul ran a hand through his hair and looked up the log cabin's ceiling. Shawn had a point and it was only now Paul truly saw it. He breathed in and blinked back his tears trying to compose himself.

"Shawn..." he never looked down, "I will talk to Vince, I'll talk to him about retirement and-"

"No!" Shawn cried. "No don't. I was being selfish on the plane, you can't quit. When you retire, you leave with dignity but it's like something has been ripped out of you. Wrestle until you physically can't any more..."

"But what about us Shawnie?" Paul grabbed Shawn's arms, his emotions running wild as the tears finally fell. "You just said you're lonely and I work too much but then you tell me not to retire. What can I do? I can't work part-time because my job is a 'in it' or 'not in it' role. Shawn, I worked hard for this role on the exec. It's not every day a run of the mill wrestler gets this kind of approval from the boss."

"I don't know, Paul... I don't know," Shawn whispered.

Paul pulled his husband close to his chest and sobbed openly and louder into his chest. They both stood there sobbing for what felt like hours, neither saying a word.


	7. Chapter 7

Neither Shawn nor Paul had spoken about what had taken place the previous night. They had both gone to bed after a few minutes crying in the sitting area. Enraptured by their own pain, neither said anything to each other when they had got into bed. Paul had spent most of the night looking at the ceiling whereas Shawn had curled up in a ball and stared at the wall.

The morning had been awkward but at least they were on speaking terms. They had packed the gear they needed for their adventure and now here they were. Paul was sat on the riverbank. He stared out at the canyon water and smiled slightly as children leaned over their rafts and pointed to fish.

"Kate's gonna be our guide," the tough Texan accent of his husband said from behind him. Paul looked up from the water but did not turn to look back at Shawn. He nodded his head. It had been Shawn's idea to hire a guide to control the boat considering neither of them had any experience at all of rapids or general boating. Paul had not argued and had let Shawn get on with it. They had decided to go the whole trail which was three days' worth of water if they stopped for lunch, dinner and slept overnight. Both were fine and Kate, for the right price, was happy to go along.

"You don't mind do ya? I mean... it'll be pretty dangerous to go on without someone who knows the river," Shawn added after Paul had not said a word. Paul stood up from the grass and stepped into the flip-flops he had previously kicked off.

"It's a good idea Shawn. You're right, we don't want to get into trouble if the river gets too choppy," Paul offered Shawn a small smile which Shawn returned. They must have looked like complete tourists among the regulars who had flocked out with their rafts.

Paul stood there in his black T-shirt and beige shorts with flip-flops. On his head was a black baseball cap with his pony tail sticking out of the back. He had trimmed his moustache and sideburns but had kept the golden wonders. If he was going river rafting then he wanted to look like the coolest one doing it.

Shawn had gone for the white vest and opened red trucker shirt motif. The guy even wore jeans and cowboy boots because he considered the weather too cold. Too cold? Paul could have fallen out of the shower when Shawn had complained this morning it was chilly outside. He looked like a true Texan though, they were never too far too miss. He had his trademark black cowboy hat and giant belt buckle sticking out.

"Could you look anymore hick if you tried?" Paul asked.

"I was thinking of growing my beard out but somebody always complains when I try," Shawn ran a hand over his clean-shaven face.

"It's not that I don't like it... it's just that you're remarkably grey around the mouth and it feels like I'm kissing my grandfather."

"Yeah well whenever I kiss you it's like I'm kissing one of the village people," Shawn muttered.

"Gentlemen! How much experience do you have on the water?"

Shawn and Paul both turned to look at the woman they had hired to guide them on their expedition. Standing at 5'3 she did not look like much and her dainty body resembled someone more inclined for office work than river rafting. She had crossed her arms over her torso and stared at both men through her sunglasses. Paul offered a hesitant smile and raised his hand just above his shoulder like a child in school.

"I swam 250 metres once," he lowered his hand and took in the stony face of the woman. She looked to be in her late 30s, a little younger than Shawn and himself. A serious woman for serious business; Paul thought wearily. "Neither are us are that experienced mam but we are both very athletic and can swim."

"So if you fell out during a level 3 how would you react?" she snapped.

"A what?" Paul scratched his head under his hat.

"A Level 3. We approach a Level 3 – you don't particularly want to drown. Talk me through how you'd go about saving yourself."

"Listen lady, we're paying you to make sure we don't fall into any of these Level 3's as you call them. We're inexperienced, that's why we called you. Teach us the basics and what these levels mean and get us on the water." Said Shawn who had just about seen enough.

Kate scowled despite herself. She tightened the headband which tied her long blonde hair into a ponytail and then headed towards the rental shop. Paul smiled, oh this Kate was going to be a lot of fun if this kept up. Nothing said a romantic getaway like a Drill Sargent third wheel.

"She seems nice," Paul remarked playfully as she stomped into the rental shop for whatever it was you needed for boating. He nudged Shawn's shoulder with his elbow. "You sure put her in her place, Shawnie."

"Yeah well you're clearly not going to know what a Level 3 is! Honestly, that's like me putting her in a sleeper hold and asking her the best way to escape," Shawn shook his head. "It's not our deal. She either gets us on the water or we get a new guide."

"Shawn, we've not even started yet and you're talking about firing the guide _you_ hired."

"She shouldn't be talking to you like that. We're 'newbs', as the kids say."

"She didn't offend me and I'm pretty sure I can defend myself against some dainty old woman without the help of my daring husband," Paul nudged Shawn again with his elbow. The older man glowered but said nothing. "I know you'll love this. It's you – its adventure and will get your adrenaline pumping. Hell, it might even get rid of your muffins."

"She's younger than us and you're calling her old? I'd hate to hear how you describe me to people…"

Paul grinned and wrapped an arm around his husband's shoulders like a comrade of war. Shawn glanced at Paul from the corners of his eyes, whenever Paul got like this it meant one of two things. He was going to do a speech about testing strength and companionship through love and war or he was going to say something completely offensive and then laugh it off like it was a bad joke. Shawn was braced for either.

"Shawn, an extreme vacation will not only bring us together but it will put to rest any fears _we _share. Hard work and sheer determination, blood and sweat mixing with the salt water and soil. Can you smell that, Shawn?" Paul exaggerated his point with a hefty sniff up into the air. "Smell it."

"I can smell it just fine like this…"

"Sniff it. Come on, give it a good hard sniff."

"Honestly Paul, I can-"

"A big sniff, clear up those sinuses and embrace the river, embrace the Canadian air!"

Shawn exhaled a sigh and decided to humour Paul by lifting his chin up into the air and loudly sniffed the air. He lowered his chin and glanced, once again, at his husband who was grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire Cat. Shawn shrugged his shoulders and said,

"I can smell it…"

"What can you smell?" Paul pressed. Shawn blinked. Your breath? Your aftershave? Stagnant water? Grass? Shawn smiled awkwardly and shrugged yet again. "Shawn, you can smell the foundations of victory. Because when we leave Canada, our marriage will not only be as solid as a rock: we'll have conquered a level 3."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "You don't even know what a level 3 is…"

"Which makes this trip all the more exciting."

* * *

Kate had arrived some time later dragging a large, navy inflatable raft behind her with two oars stored inside the boat. Shawn, who did not like to watch a lady struggle, took his place as the gentleman and ran around to the back of the raft and lifted it off the floor. They carried it between them, Paul leant against his rock with his arms crossed admiring the boat which was to become their new found friend on their voyage. Their guide dropped the boat near the water's edge and let out a sigh of relief.

"Three days on the river is no easy feat, gentlemen. I take it you have enough food and camping equipment?" Kate hopped into the raft and began to rifle through some of the zipped up black bags the rental shop had provided them with. Paul nodded his head towards numerous gym bags nearby.

"More than enough. We made a last minute trip to Walmart and picked up some essentials."

Kate nodded her head. Her arms outreached towards Paul and as if on cue, he began to hand her the bags of food and camping equipment in question for storage. Shawn stepped around the boat and towards Paul who had just finished handing Kate the final bag.

"Nervous?" Shawn asked.

"Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I was worried I was going to have to pretend to be brave so you didn't think I was a pussy," Paul stepped into the raft. "Kate, what did you mean earlier by Level 3? Are they bad?"

Kate found a smile on her lemon sucking lips. The final bag had been stored and an oar was held firmly in both of her hands. She pushed it into Paul's chest who grabbed onto it with an "oaf".

"If you want to have fun on this trip then you will want to encounter Level 3s. They're moderate rapids, nothing too dangerous as long as you are experienced enough to manoeuvre which I am. You have nothing to worry about – Level 5 and up are the worrisome ones but I can assure you gentlemen: I won't be taking you through them."

"Great, that's something off of my mind. Talk me through where we're going exactly, have you brought a map?"

"Wait! You mean… Siri doesn't know?" Demanded the overtly snarky voice of Shawn. Paul rolled his eyes but said nothing to the other man.

"I don't trust those things as far as I can throw them. Give me a good old map any day. Tried and tested through hundreds of wars and hundreds of expeditions – all those years of history can't just be replaced with a Windows product" was Kate's swift response before an argument could brew.

"It's Apple and for the record I left my phone at the cabin."

"You did? I thought that thing was like your Siamese twin…"

"I imagine the reception would be dead out here and what's the point getting a $600 phone wet and ruined? The website said all rafts are fitted with radios to ranger stations so it's not like we won't be pried from civilisation."

The guide smiled. "You googled cell phones before the risk of river rafting such as the various levels? I'm glad you've got your priorities straight, Mr Levesque-Hickenbottom. Real glad. You," she nodded at Shawn. "You'll push us off from the river bank and then I'll take the control and usher around the river. River ain't too bad round here, we can just drift until we reach a small plot of land. If you're into fishing, we can catch lunch."

"What do you want me to do?" Paul asked. Kate looked him over not once but twice. Her neck craning as she took in his bulky form. He tapped the raft with her foot.

"Push the raft into the water. Once we're in just hop in and sit at the back," she grabbed a life jacket from the raft. "200 metres won't cut it, big guy. Put this on and shake a leg out if you want lunch and not dinner."

"Yes mam…" Paul muttered under his breath. He did not need to look back to see the smug grin on Shawn's face behind him. He'd known the man far too long to know he would never have missed an opportunity to revel. As requested, Paul pulled the life jacket on over his head. He picked up a second, swung round and forced the second one into Shawn's chest. Shawn stepped back from the impact, his hands clutching the lifejacket.

"Set sail Captain and try not to tip the boat with your oaring skills," Paul said softly between him and Shawn. Shawn raised an eyebrow before he pulled the life jacket down over his head.

"Sure thing Cabin Boy, try not to tip the boat when your fat ass comes flying in."

"Well that's Roger the Cabin Boy out of the question then, baby."

"We'll stick to first name and none of this weird kinky play on Captain Pugwash. Shawn, get in position. Paul, be sure you dive straight in behind Shawn when the boat hits the water. We don't want you missing the only opening Shawn will allow."

"I thought we weren't going to be using euphemisms," Shawn asked as he finished buckling up his lifejacket.

"No, we're not supposed to use innuendos," Paul replied.

"Aren't they the same thing?" he asked despite the glower Kate, their guide and the person they were entrusing their lives with, watched on. Paul smirked then placed his hand on Shawn's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

"No Shawn. I would explain it to you but I've got a boat to launch."

"It's a raft!" Kate growled when she took her seat in the boat.

"A boat is something you drive on water," Shawn said proudly and took his seat behind Kate. He took the second oar from the rafts floor and clipped it through one of the two holes either side of him. Kate held the other oar over her head which Shawn took and clipped into place. Both oars in place, both firmly in his hand, he looked back at his husband.

"You don't drive a boat Shawn, you sail a boat and I didn't expect to have you both sat in the boat! I thought I was supposed to be putting it in the water."

"No, you sail a sail boat as it has no motor. You drive a speed boat."

"This hasn't got a motor! You sail this boat."

"You don't sail a boat without a mast! Maybe control?"

"Control?! For god's sake Shawn, you're lucky I don't tip this boat up and throw you in the drink."

"Well Kate said this isn't a boat anyway."

"If it sits on water then it's a boat," Paul grabbed the back of the raft and using his back and as much strength he could muster, pulled it a few inches off of the ground.

"Oh so you're saying you would call The Titanic a boat? No, that's a ship. You don't sail The Titantic." Shawn said proudly.

"No you sink it."

On that final word, Paul heaved the raft forward and felt the water pull the raft free from his fingers and all around grip. Like Kate had suggested, he seized the small window and practically dove inside of the raft as the current took the inflatable item away from dry land. Shawn, whose eyes were narrowed in determination with his hat stooped down over his brow, battled with the two oars either side of him.

The waves were fierce and strong and it felt like they did most of the controlling. They floated towards the centre, Shawn still battling with both oars as he rowed back and forth against the waves. Kate had not scolded him so he took that as a sign he was doing something right. His tongue stuck out, the waves lapped at the raft and water splashed against the bags, floor and their clothes. He would have been lying if he had said his arms didn't hurt already.

Kate turned and without a word snatched one of the oars from Shawn's hands. She forced the oar into the water and practically thrashed the river at her side. The boat steadied, the water stopped invading the insides of the boat. At last, they were floating down stream towards that plot of land (hopefully).

"You did well there, very well. The river isn't your enemy but it never hurts to put it in its place – don't be afraid to use a little force. Congratulations – you're in control of the raft."

Shawn, whose back had been tense throughout the ordeal, smiled and exhaled a breath he had been holding. His back loosened as did his grip on the oar in his left hand. His fingers which had turned white from the pressure were beginning to turn back into their rosy red. Behind him, he could hear Paul applauding.

"Well done Shawn. We'll make a sailor out of you yet," said Paul.

"Oh? Thank you…" Shawn said with a red tint in his cheeks. He turned to face his husband. "Notice how Kate said, control?"

"Oh god not this again…" their guide muttered from up front. "Keep paddling you or I'll throw you off this raft myself."

"Do as you're told," Paul said thankfully. "I'm gonna lie back here and take a nap."

"What?!" Shawn gasped.

"Yeah, do you have any idea how heavy this thing was? Combined with Kate and your extra pudding? No, you keep up the good work," Paul lent forward and placed a kiss on the pursed lips of Shawn's and then swiped the cowboy hat from his lovers head. He returned to his original position. Back pressed against the inflatable raft, Paul placed the hat on his head and pulled it down just over his eyes. "Wake me up when we hit dry land. I'm on vacation."

"You don't honestly think-"

Paul kicked off his flip-flops, one and two directly at Shawn which then bounced against his middle and back into the boat. Proudly, Paul then placed both of his bare feet on the small spare spot of Shawn's seat so his left foot was cushioned against Shawn's shirt. Shawn turned forward, his eyes sunken and his bottom lip stuck out rather childishly. Paul was in trouble when they hit dry land.


	8. Chapter 8

His arms hurt. Shawn's arms hurt so much he felt like he was back in the ring being tossed around by The Great Khali. Kate upfront was navigating with the huge A3 map she had brought with her whilst Paul, the wonderful man that he was, sat behind Shawn with his feet still pressed against Shawn's side snoring rather loudly behind him. If he did not have to keep this raft so steady he would have spun back around and smacked Paul right over the head with the oar.

The river had not been rough, if anything it was as smooth as a baby's bottom. There were a few turns but after a little manoeuvring and some yelling from Kate, Shawn had managed to work out how to control the raft. The rocky mountainously banks of the river and the lush greenery around them made Shawn yearn for dry land. He had brought one crossbow and he was glad he had. The land called to him, begged him to dock up and scout for a wee while. Just to hike, to get lost in the lush greenness of it all. To be of one with nature, to live of the land. He smiled, to grow a beard like a man! He really wanted to grow a beard…

He turned back briefly at the snoring bear behind him. He knew Paul would never allow it. But then again, how was he going to know? Shawn could grow the bad boy when Paul went back to work. _If _he went back to work… after the conversation they had had last night: Shawn was not too sure what was going through his husband's mind.

Paul liked to play the big man but deep inside, Shawn knew it was all bravado. Maybe Paul had more confidence within himself but he found it hard to say no. He could argue, hell they could both argue as demonstrated but Paul was a typical man. He liked a quiet life.

"I hate it when people stare at me when I'm sleeping…" Paul grumbled with his eyes still shut.

"Even me?" Shawn asked innocently.

"Especially you. Science suggests you're much more likely to be killed by your spouse than a stranger."

"I'm not gonna argue with Science, man." Shawn responded with a slight smile. Paul's eyes cracked open and he let out an enormous yawn. His back cracked as he sat up in the raft.

"You fill me with such comfort, HBK. On the plus side," Paul raised his arms for a stretch. "You've not tipped the boat over."

"If you keep yapping and stop paddling we might hit the rocks and then the _raft _will tip over," their helpful and friendly guide grumbled from her joyous position upfront. Shawn rolled his eyes, turned face forwards and began to move the oars backwards and forth as he had done previously. His arms cried out, his biceps stinging with each paddle.

"Shawn, this isn't a row boat – put some force into it," Paul said matter of fact. Shawn, who had been rowing now for near on an hour bit his bottom lip. Starting an argument on an uneasy river would not have been such a bright idea; there was no telling what Paul's weight contributed to the stability of the raft and throwing him overboard might be a bad idea.

"C'mon Shawn! Big, long strides. Heave and ho!" Paul continued.

"I'll heave ho you in a minute," Shawn muttered under his breath.

"What's that baby?"

"Nothing…."

"Come here…," Paul stood to half his height, back hunched and unceremoniously pushed himself down onto Shawn's bench despite it already being occupied. Shawn was pushed forward, his bottom literally leaving the entire bench. He would have fallen instantly to the floor if not for Paul wrapping his arms around his middle and pulling him back. Paul's legs opened and Shawn was sat on the open bench in-between. Talk about cosy; Shawn thought as he looked at the small space he found himself between the two hairy legs. Paul took hold of the oars just above Shawn's hands. "Hold it firm."

"I am holding it firm! I'm tired, I've been rowing for god knows how long,"

"Well I hope for both our sakes we never get lost at sea… heaven forbid if we have to row to find dry land" Paul said playfully.

"You've been asleep for an hour! I've been sat here rowing and all she's been doing is… I don't even know what she's been doing! It's not been talking to me to keep me motivated, that's for darn sure! My arms hurt and I bet I have blisters on my palms! And and-"

"And-and you're being a prima-donna again," Paul said. His hands slipped down the oars and covered Shawn's. His thumb rubbed small semi-circles against the skin. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise I'd sleep that long. Forgive me?"

"No." Was the stubborn reply. Paul sneered light-heartedly against Shawn's ear whilst his arms matched the movements of Shawn's 'paddling'. The current of the river did most of the work, Paul could imagine the scowl their guide would be wearing right now because of her newbies.

"Don't play hardball with baby, forgive me…" Paul mewed, his nose nuzzling Shawn's ear through is hair.

"Stop it – not here." The still stubborn Shawn grumbled. He refused to look back, he knew if he looked back he would ultimately smile at Paul and all would be forgiven. His arms hurt, he kept thinking on that as Paul and he rowed. He thought of his pain, his excruciating arm numbing pain that probably felt worse than childbirth.

"Why not? We're on vacation." Paul kissed his jawline.

"Kate is watching…" Shawn said as quietly as he could through gritted teeth.

"No she's not. She's in front _not_ giving you a motivational speech," Paul purred. "She can't see. Besides, even if she could I don't care. I booked this for you and me, she's _your_ extra baggage."

"Don't refer to her as that! She might hear you," Shawn hissed.

"Then forgive me…" Paul kissed his jaw again. "How about forgive me and I'll row."

"I forgive you." Shawn's hands dropped from the oars and went to his sides.

"That was easy," Paul said teasingly.

"What can I say? It's impossible to stay mad at you."

"My ass! You're a stubborn jackass."

Shawn leaned back against his husband's broad chest and smiled impishly. He knew he was stubborn but hey, was that not one of his charms? Well, it did depend on who you spoke to. Almost as if Paul was reading Shawn's mind, he rolled his eyes and continued the strong, heavy strokes.

"Right! We'll stop over there for lunch. Turn right! Paddle on the left side only," their guide called from the front. "Paddle left!"

As directed, Paul brought the oar he had been using on the right and brought it into the raft. With both hands, he took hold of the oar on his left and began to row into the direction of the land. The raft spun in the desired direction and Kate jumped up from her seat. The soft, green grass of land was inches away.

"Steady!" She bellowed. She placed one foot on the edge of the raft and with a mighty jump, she leapt into the air. Her sneaks hit the grass and within a second, she had spun on her heel and yelled, "The rope!"

"Eh? Oh!" Shawn threw the end of the rope which was attached to the boat at Kate. She caught it and tied it to one of the many wooden posts planted at the small islands coast.

"Well, that didn't hurt my arms," Paul wrapped his arms around Shawn's middle. "I think you're acting like a girl."

"You did it for what? 3 minutes?!"

"Aww poor baby," Paul cooed. "What are you making for lunch?"

"Nothing. My arms hurt too much."

"I'm sure I… wait, what? No lunch?" Paul blinked.

"You can make lunch for a change, my arms hurt."

Paul opened his mouth but shut it again. Shawn wiggled out of his hold and climbed onto the dry land. Well, he wasn't that hungry anyway…

* * *

How the hell was he supposed to make anything with such primitive utensils? A metal pot, a gas canister like stove and a bag of dry pasta. Did you make pasta with milk or water? Paul, who was knelt on the floor, had honestly forgotten it had been that long. Paul lived on a diet of hotel food, restaurant food, takeaway food or Shawn's food. Nowhere in the equation did he have to cook. In fact, the last time he had cooked had to be seventeen.

He looked at Shawn. Shawn was laid out on the grass with his legs stretched out and arms spread out either side. He had barely moved since they had got on land. Paul felt his stomach grumble.

"How's lunch coming?" Kate's voice asked just above him. Paul looked up, their guide had her arms crossed over her chest like a disapproving school teacher. Paul bit his bottom lip. There was no chance in hell he was going to tell _her _he had forgotten how to cook a bowl of simple pasta.

"Great! Just about to boil the pasta."

"What sauce are we having with it?"

Paul froze. What sauce? He had not thought about the sauce, he had been too busy trying to remember how it was to cook the pasta in the first place. Did they have a jar of tomato sauce? Shawn would have picked a jar up if he picked up the pasta, wouldn't he? Paul smiled awkwardly, why was cooking so difficult?

"There's a tomato sauce in the bag…" Shawn said from his position on the floor.

"Yeah, we're having that. Just be a little patient darling or we'll take this out of your pay."

Kate screwed her face up but said nothing. She moved out of the way and took a seat on a foldaway chair she had brought with her. Paul nodded his head, he had told her. And now, it was time to cook the pasta. It was water, why would you have milk and tomato? Paul turned on the gas, picked the canister up off the top and dipped it into the river. He placed it back on the stove. He saw Shawn pull a face in the corner of his eye.

"When you boil water, you make it drinkable. I saw it on TV." Paul called over his shoulder.

"We have bottled water…" Shawn muttered.

"We're doing this the authentic way," Paul tipped the pasta into the water. "Now we just have to wait."

Like The Undertaker, Shawn sat bolt upright from his position on the floor. Had he just seen what he thought he had? There was no way… Shawn flung himself near the gas canister and looked into the pot. Dry pasta in freezing cold dirty water straight from the river. His eyes snapped to Paul.

"What the hell are you doing?" his thick Texan voice demanded. Paul looked dumbstruck, he looked into the pot unsure how to react.

"You boil the-"

"It's not even boiled! Are you stupid? Move, get out of the way." Shawn pushed his husband roughly to the left, grabbed the pot and literally flung it into the river.

"You just threw away my lunch!"

"I just saved you from food poisoning! I just saved you from emergency stops in a bush! I just saved you from getting poison ivy rashes on your asshole!"

"We could have washed the pasta off with clean water! Shawn, you just threw my lunch into the river! Besides, the water would have boiled eventually."

"No, you're an idiot. You would have been pissing out of your ass if I had not thrown away that filthy broth."

"Who are you calling an idiot?!"

"You _would have_ been if you had eaten that! Babe," Shawn took Paul's hand. "I'll make you something else."

"I wanted pasta and it's not just that Shawn, I can do it myself."

Shawn blinked. "Do you really want to do this yourself? I've never seen you cook a day in your life… oh wait I'm lying – I've seen you burn burgers at a barbeque."

Pasta had suddenly become matter of principle for Paul. If Shawn could do it then so could he. Paul pulled his hand out of Shawn's and crossed his arms over his chest. He was determined. Shawn sighed.

"Paul…"

"I won't poison you," Paul said firmly.

"Paul I… Paul, y-you don't-"

"No. I'm cooking, my decision is made."

He could see it in Shawn's eyes; The Heartbreak Kid wanted to argue. His chin jutted and the teeth inside of his mouth clamped down hard. What must have Kate thought of them both? She remained quiet on her chair, her attention firmly on the river but her ears obviously tingling. She'd have been deaf if she could not hear the commotion taking place behind her. Shawn brushed his hair back with his fingertips. He was frustrated, was he going to force a decision? Paul smirked; that was unlikely.

"Stop smirking!" Shawn snapped. "Don't even laugh. You're going to make yourself ill."

"What? No I won't. Besides, you told me to make lunch for a change."

"I didn't think you'd be _this _bad! How can you not cook pasta? When I did a year at college, even the most pampered of pooches could cook pasta!"

The narrowed brows and twitching nostril of Paul took Shawn by surprise. Did it mean this much to him? "Well… at least let me help?"

"Let you help?" repeated a dumbfounded Paul.

"Let me help. A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He'll recommend those three words even over: I love you."

"Did….did you just quote Star Trek?"

A big smile spread across Shawn's face. That unashamed contagious smile his husband had regardless of the situation or terrible joke he sometimes told. Paul rolled his eyes, it was so hard to be stubborn when Shawn was so cheesy. Was this not their entire relationship? One of them would get mad and a little quirk, just that little thing, made them realise why they fell in love. That was what Paul put it down to anyway, Shawn's quirkiness often softened him.

"In that context Shawnie; all you've done is tell me that you love me. Which," Paul wrapped his arms around Shawn's middle and brought him closer to his chest. "I already knew so… no, I'm going to find another bag of pasta in the bag and I'm going cook it."

Shawn sighed. "And you have the nerve to call me stubborn?"

"I promise to use the bottled water and I promise to make sure the water is boiled before I pour in the pasta. Okay?"

"You do know that pasta sauce is poured on the already cooked pasta? That you tip away the water before you stir in the sauce?"

"I know." Paul pressed a small kiss against Shawn's lips. "I'm not stupid."

"Just forgetful?"

Paul smirked. "That's the one."


End file.
